


the last archangel: i'm not in charge of this series

by alatarmaia4



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, this just....happened, uhhhh heavy on the comfort hopefully but like....michael's getting a LOT dropped on him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-28 08:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18206075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alatarmaia4/pseuds/alatarmaia4
Summary: i basically got tumblr-challenged to write my own version of the archagels' reunion before inukagome comes out with First Born seventh year, and let it not be said that I can't aggressively follow through on people on tumblr showing an interest in my fic ideas





	1. Curious

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Last Archangel: First Born](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635096) by [inukagome15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inukagome15/pseuds/inukagome15). 



Michael first heard about the lady when Dumbledore asked to speak to him. 

“Asking about me?” Michael frowned, and considered the information at hand. “You say this woman is just a ‘visitor’?”

“To the country,” Dumbledore said. “She is an ally of the Order of the Phoenix, at least nominally - the Japanese wizarding government sent her to observe our efforts in the wake of the Voldemort scare of the past few years.”

Calling it a ‘scare’ rather watered down the severity of the threat England had been facing, but Michael didn’t comment. Dumbledore was the kind of man to be oddly cheerful or blithe about things, at least on the surface. “Why tell me?”

“Considering what I know of  _ you,  _ I thought it prudent. With an advance warning, you are less likely to be caught by surprise if this woman seeks you out.”

Michael filled in the blanks. Dumbledore didn’t want a repeat of what he’d seen Michael do before. “I wouldn’t hurt an innocent witch just for poking her nose in my business.”

“Nonetheless,” Dumbledore said, “you have been duly warned. May I ask, what do you think of the situation?”

“I don’t have any friends in Japan, if that’s what you mean.” When he’d answered prayers the various human requests had taken him all over the world, but he never stayed to make small talk. Michael realized with a pang that he had stopped paying much attention to people’s prayers quite a while ago. He pushed the thought away, and returned his attention to Dumbledore. He could tell what the old professor was about to ask. “Nor did my parents.”

“I did not expect they would,” Dumbledore mused. “She must have heard of you some other way, though I have no idea how. Though your lack of disguise made you - ah - somewhat infamous in Death Eater circles, she does not seem like the type to gather information from such people. Not that she could, since she arrived long after any who knew of you were free enough to share that information.”

“Are you sure?”

“She arrived with some pomp and circumstance at the Ministry last week. I am quite sure.” Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment. “To tell the truth, she seemed irritated by the show that was being put on. I wonder under what conditions she was sent.”

“And how long did it take her to begin asking about me?”

“By happy coincidence, I was at the Ministry speaking to our new Minister about certain matters. The ambassador found me astonishingly quickly. She was very clever with her words - you didn’t come up until we had spoken for several minutes, and she did not ask by name.”

“What  _ exactly  _ did she say?”

Dumbledore paused. “I have a Pensieve,” he said after a moment, “if you would like to view the memory? It will save you the trouble of trying to rummage through my thoughts, and may turn up details an old man’s mind has forgotten.”

Michael frowned. Pensieves had come up more than once, in his methodical perusal of the library’s books. It never occurred to him to use one himself. He already had a perfect memory - theoretically, at least. He’d forgotten things before, though largely those moments had been things he’d rather not remember.

    “To be honest,” he said, “I’m not sure Pensieves are meant for...nonhuman use.”

    “Do you imagine there is a danger?”

    Michael shrugged. “It’s unlikely a simple magical artifact could cause me to lose control, and definitely not to the point where I wouldn’t be able to refrain from causing harm.” 

    “Then by all means, let us try.” Dumbledore gestured towards a cabinet, which opened its doors on silent hinges. A stone pedestal was standing inside, full of a silvery and heavily enchanted liquid. 

    Michael weighed curiosity against common-sense caution in his head, and then stood up. Curiosity had won.

    He watched intently as Dumbledore raised his wand to his temples. When he drew it away a silvery thread, brighter than the stuff in the Pensieve and as light as a tangle of white thread, came away attached to the tip. Dumbledore dropped it into the stone bowl, where it swirled and then began to mix with the rest of the contents, spreading its soft glow.

    “Simply place your face in the Pensieve, and you will enter into the memory,” Dumbledore said. “It’s best if we enter simultaneously, or else the second to arrive may end up missing something pertinent.”

    The size of the Pensieve made sense, then. It was large enough to accommodate two adult-sized heads without them bumping together awkwardly. Michael nodded, and bent forward.

    The Pensieve was immediately and immensely uncomfortable. It picked up Michael and hurled him into the memory despite his reflexive resistance. It was nothing like the casual exchange he had been expecting, like when his siblings would communicate images and impressions rather than full sentences. 

    The room around him swirled with the fog of the Pensieve’s contents as Michael landed on a stone floor. Dumbledore was beside him, on his feet and much steadier than Michael felt. Michael shook himself off irritably, and the fog swirled once more around him before solidifying with what felt like pointed sharpness into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

    There was a dense crowd of witches and wizards, all dressed rather nicer than Michael had expected from government employees. A short distance away was Dumbledore, especially flamboyant in a tall hat and elegant robes that, Michael thought, would have given a better impression of the man if they had not been vibrantly red and purple. Then again, knowing Dumbledore, they probably gave exactly the impression he wanted to make. 

    “Ah, you must be the headmaster!” A woman had appeared out of the crowd. She stood out strikingly, in very simple robes that bore more of a resemblance to muggle businesswear than wizard’s robes or even a kimono. Surprised, Michael noted that she spoke with an American accent. 

    “Do you recognize her?” Dumbledore asked, as the memory-Dumbledore replied. Michael shook his head. He hadn’t expected to, though. “Hm. Odd.”

    “Not really.” Michael wished Dumbledore would stop talking - he had spoken over the memory-woman introducing herself. 

    A minute or so of small talk went by, with the woman asking after the state of Hogwarts and the students. Dumbledore talked neat detours around revealing anything that had happened regarding Death Eaters or the Astronomy tower. 

    “I do hope the students are not too shaken by this event,” the woman said when Dumbledore was finished assuring her of Hogwarts’ safety. “You have student authorities of a sort, do you not? Those who are in charge among the student body?”

    “Prefects, do you mean?”

    “Ah, yes, that’s what they’re called. Perhaps you could arrange for the prefects to preside over some kind of activity? Something to take the students’ minds off war and violence and let them be children.”

    Memory-Dumbledore visibly paused, and then beamed. “Ms. Fujikawa, I do think you are onto something interesting. As a matter of fact some of our prefects care quite deeply about the younger students. I think your suggestion would be received very well.”

    “Oh? That’s good to hear. If you do plan such an event, I will be sure to come.”

    “Hogwarts would be pleased to receive you.”

    Ms. Fujikawa smiled at Dumbledore’s careful manners. “Should I be on the lookout for any certain names? I imagine at least a few of the people here may have children in Hogwarts.”

    Dumbledore hesitated - just for a millisecond - before naming a few names. Neither Michael, nor Draco, made the list. 

    Ms. Fujikawa was remarkably quick on the draw. “There isn’t trouble among the prefects, is there?”

    “Not at all,” Dumbledore said.

    “Headmaster, I don’t mean to pry. I simply wish to know what’s going on. I am here to observe how badly your country was affected, after all, and how better to judge than to look at the effect your war has had on your community’s children?”

    Dumbledore nodded slowly, a gleam in his eye as he gave Ms. Fujikawa a thoughtful look. “A few prefects were involved in the attack on the castle,” he allowed. “They wished to protect the other students.”

    “Really? Who?”

    Another slight pause, this one thoughtful. Michael could see, in the way that regular humans saw, memory-Dumbledore’s thoughts working like turning gears.

    “Young Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said, “and one Mr. Hopkins. Though if you wish to speak to either and congratulate them on their bravery, I would not poke and prod as seems to be your habit - they have both been through their share of tragedy.”

    Ms. Fujikawa had the grace to look embarrassed. “I apologize for my curiosity,” she said, a little stiffly, and bowed her head shallowly. A Ministry aide called and turned her head, and the crowd moved in between her and Dumbledore. The memory began to fade. 

    Michael raised his head, and in the back of his mind was surprised that his face wasn’t wet.

    “If you warned me, you should tell Draco about this as well.” Michael stepped away from the Pensieve. “She wasn’t exactly asking about me specifically.”

    “She was steering the conversation very purposefully,” Dumbledore said, retaking his seat behind his desk. Fawkes cooed, from his place on his perch. “But yes, by all means, Mr. Malfoy should know. I was going to say that you should feel free to relate all you have heard and seen.”

    Michael nodded. He’d probably end up getting most of the details interrogated out of him when their study group next met, anyway. Susan and Justin had been with him when the wide-eyed second year had sidled up with Dumbledore’s request for a meeting. 

_     “Are  _ you planning some kind of prefect-led student event?” Michael asked. Hannah and Draco would like the advance warning. 

    “The professors and I have been exchanging ideas, yes.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “I am sure you and the other prefects will find out shortly.”

* * *

    Hogwarts, in honor of their international visitation (and, the students said to each other, everybody surviving to the new school year) was holding a festival. 

    Teachers issued special projects for students to complete in order for them to show off properly. Everyone was groaning over the assignments, which required them (in groups of two) to come up with unique demonstrations of their own magical skill. 

    Most intriguing to all, though, was the mysterious challenge which was going to be set up on the lawn. Dumbledore had promised a series of challenges which would, safely and non-threateningly, challenge the combatant’s skills. Students were allowed to sign up to try and make it through all the challenges in groups of four. Supposedly, the prize for making it all the way through to the end was a sizeable point bonus awarded to one final exam grade of each student’s choice. 

    Michael had already heard a great many Hufflepuffs sighing in relief, especially the OWL and NEWT students who were hoping that the prize would count towards those all-important exams. He had done his best to stop the hope of the prize from going to people’s heads, but Hannah had made him stop because he was ‘being a stick in the mud’. 

    “Let people dream,” she said, as she and Michael entered the Room of Requirement. Most of the study group was already assembled, even Draco, who had been curiously absent from several until the rest demanded him to make up his mind and either come back or not be friends with them. 

    “Dream about what?” Luna asked.

    “About everyone getting the prize bonus points for their OWLs.” Michael sat, leaving one careful seat in between him and Draco. Possibly there had not been enough chairs at the table a moment ago for there to be an empty buffer one in between them, but Michael wasn’t going to object. 

    “Oh, it’s only the Nargles,” Luna said cheerfully. “Aren’t any of you going to try?”

    “Of course!” Susan said. “Hannah, Justin, and I just need a fourth person.” 

    “Well, don’t look at any of us,” Blaise said, twirling a quill between his fingers. “Us Slytherins must stick together.”

    “There’s only three of  _ us,  _ too,” Draco pointed out. Daphne look amused. Blaise tossed down his quill dramatically.

    “Must you poke holes in my witty comebacks?” 

    “I could be a fourth,” Luna offered. Hannah beamed.

    “Will you? That’s great! We still don’t know if they’re limiting how many people can sign up, so we should go do it soon.”

    “Doesn’t Ernie want to participate?” Michael asked. Susan shrugged.

    “He doesn’t want any points he doesn’t genuinely get on the test,” she said. “I told him he’s an idiot who’ll change his mind once he sits his History of Magic NEWT, but he’s stubborn like that.” 

    “And Ginny’s already been roped into a Weasleys-only group,” Hannah added. Michael frowned.

    “There’s...only Ginny and Ron still at school.” Michael had to fight to keep himself from putting a question mark on the end of that sentence. Surely he hadn’t missed an entire Weasley or two. Ginny was a good friend. 

    “I think Harry and Hermione are informal Weasleys at this point,” Luna said. “What about you, Draco? Will you keep to just Slytherins?”

    “Well, teaming up with Michael would be cheating,” Draco said lightly, though his eyes darted to Michael as he spoke. 

    “I know how to be subtle,” Michael said. Everyone at the table raised their eyebrows. “What?”

    “Nothing,” Susan lied. “But if you’re not going to compete, keep an eye out for this mystery lady Dumbledore told you about. I want to know what’s going on with her. My mother wouldn’t tell me anything!”

    “Oh, is your mother going to be there?” Luna asked. As the conversation moved on, Draco nudged Michael’s elbow to get his attention.

    “Do you think she’s bad news?” He asked in a low voice. “This Fujikawa?”

    “I don’t know,” Michael said, and he didn’t like to admit it.

    “Couldn’t you go find her and find out?”

    Michael shrugged. “Why take the time when there’s so much to do here? She’s coming right to me.”

* * *

    Astonishingly, the day of the festival dawned sunny. It was taking place in lieu of usual classes, so after breakfast all the students streamed out onto the lawn, where arrangements of chairs and a long kind of obstacle course had been set up. A small booth had been erected, where already Ministry officials were buzzing around with the professors, talking amongst themselves and observing the students. Michael spotted Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall walking along the obstacle course, as if making last-minute checks. 

    Draco appeared out of the crowd with surprising speed, considering the careful berth he and Michael had been maintaining between them recently. 

    “Is she here?” He demanded. Michael cast a glance over the Ministry booth. There - a flash of pale green robes.

    “In the top right,” he said, and Draco swiveled around to look. In person, Ms. Fujikawa didn’t look much different than in the memory, but...

    Michael squinted. There was something odd about her. Other than the fact that she was staring right back at him.

    “You see that too, right?” Draco said. “How does she know it’s you?”

    “Maybe someone told her,” Michael murmured. He doubted it even as he said it. Ms. Fujikawa stood gracefully, and began to make her way down to the lawn. 

    “Should we do something?” Draco hissed. He’d shifted closer to Michael defensively. The student groups for the obstacle course were clumped around its beginning, where Flitwick was waiting, and craning their necks to look at what was ahead of them. “She can’t do anything with all these teachers around.”

    “No.” Probably not. Definitely not when Michael was there. “What do you see, when you look at her?”

    Draco gave him a startled look. “A normal person? Do you see something else?”

    “No.” 

    Michael stood, and waited for Fujikawa to approach.

    “Good morning,” was the first thing she said. “You must be the Mr. Hopkins I’ve heard about. The only other Hufflepuff prefect I’ve seen didn’t match the description.”

    “You must not have been looking very closely,” Michael said, knowing perfectly well there were several other Hufflepuff prefects in the years below his class and that, likely, Fujikawa had not been given a description of him beyond ‘male’ and ‘Hufflepuff’. 

    Fujikawa shrugged. Absolutely nothing of her thoughts reached Michael - she must have been well-trained in Occlumency. “Perhaps. All these black robes with colorful accents - it’s hard to tell. And you are...Mr. Malfoy?”

    “Yes,” Draco said guardedly. “Why?”

    “I was told you two purposefully involved yourselves in the fight here, in order to protect the other students. That’s very brave.”

    “It...” Draco averted his eyes. Michael did not. “I suppose...I  _ was  _ worried somebody would get hurt.”

    Warmth curled in Michael’s chest - he knew that Draco meant somebody, singular - but he had no time to acknowledge it. “There are children in the castle,” was what he said aloud, while inching out one wing to brush against Draco’s back. “Somebody had to make sure they’d be alright.”

    “You  _ are _ still children yourself.”

    Michael couldn’t help but smile a little. “Not technically.” When Fujikawa raised her eyebrows, giving him a curious (and curiously sharp) look, he elaborated. “English wizards come of age at seventeen, you know.” It was true, and not at all what he’d meant. 

    “Ah, I see. And you were both seventeen?”

    “We are now,” Draco said. His gaze darted towards Michael, but only briefly. Nevertheless, Michael was sure Fujikawa had noticed. 

    “Well, let me congratulate you. Not all nearly-seventeen year olds would be willing to risk their own wellbeing for the sake of strangers.”

    “They’re not strangers if you see most of them in the hall every day,” Michael replied. “And I assure you - I knew what I was doing.”

    Fujikawa gave him another sharp, curious look. “So confident, and yet you’re not competing?”

    What  _ was  _ it that bugged him so much when he looked at Fujikawa? She had a pleasant enough face and there was nothing odd or out of place about her clothing. “I don’t need the prize.”

    “Because of your - what was it - study group? The other teachers say you two are proponents of inter-House unity.”

    “You must have been talking to Sprout,” Draco said. It did sound like something Sprout would say. “I mean, Professor Sprout. She’s Wayne’s head of house, she likes to make any Hufflepuff sound good.”

    Fujikawa’s eyes lingered for a pointed moment on Draco’s green and silver House badge. “I did ask several teachers about the students I was told were involved in the attack, yes. They all had surprisingly nice things to say.”

    “What, even Snape?”

    Fujikawa smiled.  _ “Surprisingly _ nice things, yes.” 

    How did Fujikawa already know about Snape’s reputation? “He’s head of Slytherin House, and Draco’s in our group. Of course he’d approve,” Michael said. “But if you don’t mind I think the game is about to start, and I want to wish some of my friends good luck.”

    “By all means. I won’t keep you.” Fujikawa folded her hands together in front of her. Sunlight glinted off her silver bracelet. “It was nice to speak to you-!”

    Michael’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, making Fujikawa startle and try to step backwards. In the half second of the gleam of sunlight, he’d seen symbols etched into the metal, black in comparison to the reflective surface.

_     Enochian  _ symbols.

    “Wayne!” Draco grabbed his arm. Fujikawa had stopped dead, eyes narrow and gaze locked with Michael’s. 

    “Excuse me,” Fujikawa said primly. Michael let her detach his grip from her wrist, and let Draco drag him away.

    “What was  _ that  _ about?” Draco hissed as they melted into the crowd.

    “That was no ordinary bracelet,” Michael said, craning his neck to see where Fujikawa had gone. She’d been absorbed into a conversation with Trelawney and Sprout, and did not look happier for it. Michael credited it to Trelawney’s presence. 

   “What do you mean, not ordinary?” Susan and Hannah’s group had caught up to them just as Michael spoke, Susan in the lead. Michael ignored her and turned to Luna.

    “You saw me talking to her, didn’t you?” He asked. Luna nodded. “What did you see?”

    “What did  _ Luna  _ see?” Draco repeated, confused. Luna looked over Michael’s shoulder, at where Fujikawa was still talking, and squinted, tilting her head.

    “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s definitely not Nargles.”

    “But there’s something?”

    “What are you looking for?” Hannah asked. 

    “She had a bracelet with Enochian symbols,” Michael said. “How does someone who’s supposedly just an international ambassador know Enochian magic? It doesn’t even exist here.” He’d asked Babbling - she’d never heard of Enochian, even though Michael was sure that at some point in the sixteenth century humans had gotten around to figuring out at least a few of the symbols. 

    “But she can’t be an angel,” Justin said. “You’d know - right? And Luna would be able to see.”

    “Luna can see angels?” Draco asked, even more confused. 

    “They’re very bright,” Luna said absently. “They’re hard not to see. But she doesn’t look bright, just a bit wavy.”

    “Wavy?” Michael repeated. Luna shrugged.

    “Wavy.” 

    “What’s wavy?” Hannah asked. “Demons? Something worse?”

    “You’d have to try pretty hard to get something worse than a demon,” Michael said shortly. “And no. I would be able to see if she was possessed, too.”

    “So what is she?” 

    “Could she be human?” Susan said. “We’re human and  _ we  _ know Enochian magic. You taught us some.”

    “Is it magic?” Justin broke in. “Or just a bracelet?”

    Michael paused. “Why bother wearing a bracelet with Enochian symbols if it doesn’t serve a purpose?” He wondered aloud. Enochian was most definitely not meant to be bandied about for only the aesthetic, but if a human didn’t know any better...

    “She’s  _ looking  _ at you again.” Draco sounded pained. Michael turned around, and Fujikawa’s gaze moved away from his. 

    “Can you feel anything from her?” Susan asked. “You’ve talked before about picking up ambient thoughts...”

    “No. Her mind is protected.” Michael stared at the back of Fujikawa’s head. He didn’t see anything wavy.

    “That’s suspicious.”

    “Hey,” Draco protested. “Maybe some people just want privacy!” 

    Fujikawa broke off from the professors and began walking by herself down towards the lake. The few students who had been skipping pebbles scattered at her approach, slinking back to the main crowd. 

    “I’m going to go find out what’s going on,” Michael said.

    “I’ll come with you,” came in an immediate chorus (and in various phrasings) from the others. Michael waved them off. 

    “You have your obstacle course to do. Go get your prize. I’ll be fine.”

_     “I  _ don’t have to compete,” Draco said. “I’m coming.”

    “...Alright.” 

Fujikawa gave no sign that she saw their approach, but she did not startle when Michael spoke. “Who are you, really?”

“Do I not look like a proper witch?” Fujikawa turned raised eyebrows on Michael. “Surely you know better than to expect a stereotype.”

“I’m not talking about stereotypes,” Michael said flatly. “Whoever you are, whatever you’re doing here, you haven’t told the truth about it. If you want to speak to me, that stops now.”

“Why?”

“Because you might be a danger to the people here.”

A smile broke across Fujikawa’s face. 

“You  _ have  _ changed,” she said, and sounded delighted by the prospect.

“What?” Said Michael, at the same time that Draco said, “Excuse me?” Fujikawa did not answer. She was undoing the clasp of her silver bracelet. 

As it fell away, her presence bloomed into sight. A familiar face - for lack of a better word - hid the soft, pleasant one of Fujikawa’s human body from sight.

Michael took a step back. He was aware that his mouth had opened in astonishment, that Draco was squeezing his shoulder painfully. 

_ “Raphael?”  _ He whispered. 

Raphael rolled her shoulders, sighing as she stretched her wings. “I apologize for the deception,” she said, pocketing the bracelet, “but I’m  _ definitely  _ never doing that again, don’t worry.”

_ “Is what’s happening right now bad or good?”  _ Draco whispered urgently. Michael was still staring. The last time he’d seen his sister he’d barely had the time to notice her. All his attention had been on Gabriel and Lucifer - Gabriel scarred and staggering but still bright with power, Lucifer cold and threatening at his back. And then, well, he’d paid for leaving his back to Lucifer.

Gabriel had told him that Raphael had been killed. Half of Michael still believed it, even when he’d caught a glimpse of her back then, until just now.

“Will you introduce me to your friend?” Raphael asked. There was no judgement in her gaze, no menace behind her words. Her presence filled the empty space in Michael’s mind where the chatter of the Host was meant to be. 

“This is Draco,” Michael said. He took Draco’s hand off his shoulder, squeezing it once in reassurance before letting go. “Draco - this is my sister, Raphael. I’ve mentioned her before.” Once, but it counted. 

Draco gaped, looking between the two of them. “Oh, of course!” He said, a little higher pitched than usual. “Your sister, who you didn’t recognize!” 

“I don’t usually see just the vessel when I look at my siblings,” Michael said, affronted. 

“I was making an effort to not be recognizable,” Raphael admitted. 

_ “Why?”  _ The question leaped off Michael’s tongue before he could wrestle it into a more composed tone of voice.

“I wanted to get other people’s opinions on you before I came to you.” Raphael shrugged. “Hiding my presence was Gabriel’s idea. He’s developed, or maybe overdeveloped, a flair for the dramatic.”

“Gabriel’s another angel?” Draco guessed. Michael nodded.

“How did you know who I was without me noticing?” Michael asked. He was still sure he’d never seen Raphael around in this world, as Wayne or after he’d recovered his memories.

“Gabriel leapt without thinking at first,” Raphael said, “but he found your tree, not you. I pointed out that we didn’t know what your life was like here, and it was better not to pile in all at once and expect you to welcome us.”

“Of course I would welcome you.”

Raphael smiled. “You’ve changed a lot, brother,” she said. “Humanity leaves its mark on us all.” 

“You, too?”

“Not just me.” Raphael reached out. Michael met her halfway, clasping her hand in his. Her grip would have been painfully tight to a human. 

Behind him, Draco shuffled away awkwardly, giving them a berth of space like privacy.

“I’m glad He gave you this,” Raphael said quietly. Her wings twitched like she wanted to extend them, to brush against Michael’s. “It’s been a long time, brother. I’d resigned myself to never seeing you again.”

“How long?”

“A long time by our standards.”

Michael blew out a breath. The world he’d been born into had seemed much the same as the one he’d encountered in bits and pieces, over the course of dealing with the Winchesters. He’d thought that the sense of timelessness, while he’d been kept by his Father, had only made it  _ seem  _ like forever...

“I must be very behind the times, now,” Michael murmured, in lieu of a thousand other things he could say. 

“That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Where  _ is  _ Gabriel?”

Raphael hesitated. “Not here,” she said carefully. “I told him to stay at home or else he’d be too tempted to interfere. But it’s not just him, Michael.”

“I figured as much, unless something has gone terribly wrong while I was...gone.”

“It’s more than that.” Raphael withdrew her hand. “There is a lot to tell you, Michael.” But she didn’t continue. Michael saw her gaze flicker towards Draco. 

Michael nodded, slowly. “We can talk privately.” A whistle sounded from the festival set up on the lawn, and a cheer echoed it. Michael hesitated. 

“If you want to return to your friends first, go ahead.” Raphael sounded amused. Michael could imagine what she thought of him having human friends. “There’s always time.”

“Afterwards,” Michael decided. He needed time to think, no matter how curious he was about who among Gabriel’s friends Raphael was hesitating over. He vaguely remembered a small group of humans who had been with Gabriel the last time he’d seen his wayward brother. 

If he was honest himself, he wasn’t sure he wanted Raphael to drag Gabriel into the same space as him. He doubted Gabriel’s opinion of him had changed much over the years.

“I know a place we can meet,” Michael said, giving Raphael the image of an isolated spot in the mountains around the lake, far away from the castle. Raphael nodded. “Tonight?”

“Tonight, then.” Raphael gave him one last smile, and moved off. Draco sidled back up to Michael.

“I have a  _ lot  _ of questions,” Draco said. Michael sighed.

“Wait one minute,” he said. “I have a feeling everyone else will, too.”

* * *

Luna had noticed Raphael from a distance, so there were plenty of questions waiting for Michael in the crowd once Susan and Hannah’s group had gotten as far as they could in the obstacle course.

“I can’t  _ believe  _ you didn’t recognize her,” Susan said, when Michael confirmed that yes, it had been another angel. 

“The Enochian was a spell to make it so that I could only see her vessel,” Michael said. “I’ve never seen whatever  _ vessel  _ she’s occupying, I see  _ her. _ It’s not hard.” 

“What do you mean, vessel?” Ernie said. “That’s a weird way of talking about a person’s body.”

“Most angels don’t have physical bodies. We weren’t created with them, physical space barely existed yet. If we want to obtain one, we gain permission from a human and occupy theirs.”

Everyone pretended they were not eyeing Michael’s body up and down.

“Obviously I was born into this one,” Michael said flatly. “It’s different. Most of us aren’t put into the situation of being born a human and having to recover themselves.”

“So your sister’s possessing the Japanese ambassador?”

“No,” Draco said, “she said something about being human, too, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Michael said. “I suspect the Japanese government has nothing to do with this. She just wanted to see what people thought of me here.”

“Someone ought to let Dumbledore know, then,” Susan said. “He’s gone to an awful lot of trouble for a fake ambassador.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Hannah said.  _ “I’m  _ having fun.”

“What did she want?” Ernie asked. 

“To see me. Apparently it’s been a while.”

“But you’ve only been here seventeen years,” Hannah said. “Surely that’s not long at all if angels have been around since the beginning of the world.”

Michael shrugged. “Time is relative. When I was...” He paused, and continued, quieter. “After the last time I saw my siblings, I wasn’t...placed here, not immediately. Some time passed before my Father made the decision to let me be born as Wayne.”

The rest of them had sobered at the mention of what had preceded him becoming Wayne Hopkins, except Draco, who looked worried at the sudden solemnity of everyone around him. 

“It wasn’t too long, was it?” Hannah asked. “I mean...it wasn’t bad?”

Michael pressed his lips together. “It wasn’t bad,” he said. “I didn’t have much a sense of time, exactly. Raphael said it had been a long while even by our standards. I expect several million years at least-”

“Merlin’s beard!” Draco looked appalled. “And you just shook hands like she Floo’d up after a long weekend to say hello?”

_ “She  _ was the one keeping her distance,” Michael pointed out. “Raphael and I - who knows where we stand anymore? I’ve changed. She’s had years to run things by herself, because I doubt Gabriel helped at all.”

“That’s mean,” Luna observed. Michael gave her a flat look.

“Gabriel was absent from Heaven for thousands of years because he purposefully hid himself so nobody could bring him back,” he said. “Trust me, if there was any brother I’d pick as least likely to help run it in my absence, it would be him.”

“Well, maybe he’s had time to change too,” Susan said. “Like you said, you don’t know where you stand.”

Michael was tempted to remind them of what he’d said before, of how slowly angels changed, but for once Susan was right. There  _ had  _ been time. 

“What was Raphael like before?” Luna asked curiously. “Did you get along?”

“Raphael was my most loyal lieutenant,” Michael said. When that was met with wide-eyed silence, he added lamely, “We got along well, yes.”

“Your sister’s crazy,” Draco said flatly. “You don’t know how to act human at all. I’m still astonished you managed to go so long without me finding out.” Hannah snorted, hiding her smile behind her hand.

“I act perfectly normal,” Michael said. 

“If you acted perfectly normal, you wouldn’t be interesting. But keep telling yourself that.”


	2. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so first, thank you all for the warm reception this fic has gotten! it's so fun to write something i know people are looking forward to
> 
> secondly, this chapter involves the use of some Enochian, and I have a different setup for that than inukagome - the typeface is significantly fancier, and (I worry) less readable. If any of you guys have trouble with that, let me know and I'll fiddle with the work skin to make it something easier and still Enochian-esque.

Michael left the Hufflepuff common room that night, with his friends promising to sit up and wait for his return. The windy clifftop he’d pointed out to Raphael was already occupied. 

“Good evening,” Raphael said when he landed. “The view is spectacular from up here, but if I was still human I’d be worried about falling over the edge.”

Michael glanced over the side to the rocky shore below. “Luckily we aren’t, then?”

“For this one situation, I’ll grant you that.” Raphael must have seen the curiosity flash over Michael’s face because she smiled wryly and added, “Should we start by trading human stories?”

“You first, if you think so.” 

Raphael bowed her head. “Rumiko Fujikawa. I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Hopkins.”

“If you  _ must,  _ at least call me Wayne.” Michael smiled a little, as well. It was good to see Raphael again, to feel another angel’s presence. “I didn’t expect Fujikawa to be real.”

“Why shouldn’t it be? It’s my name, given to me by my father and everything.”

Michael tilted his head. “Just  _ your _ father?”

“Kenjiro Fujikawa.” Raphael leaned against an outcropping of rock, appropriating it as a makeshift seat. “It still feels odd to say his first name. Japanese has very strict rules of politeness governing first names, you know. I barely knew he had one until I was well into my teens.”

“When did you remember? Around then?”

Raphael shook her head. “Not for a while. What about you?”

“When I first came here, towards the end of the year. The castle was close enough to the Forbidden Forest that I got...flashes of things, until eventually I went to investigate properly.”

“And you stayed for seven years?”

“Where else was there for me to go?”

“I imagine there were plenty of places, with far fewer human children.”

Michael looked away, towards the distant lake below. “I made friends, as Wayne,” he said. “There was no reason to abandon that. Hogwarts is a pleasant place.” He looked back, and found Raphael smiling in that delighted way again. “What?”

“I’m  _ glad  _ for you, Michael,” Raphael said. Michael looked away again, frowning defensively.

“There’s no need to make a big deal out of it. I liked humans fine before.”

“Not to the point of befriending them, and certainly not children.”

“What about  _ you,  _ then?”

“Oh, I never had any good friends.” Raphael laced her hands together. “My father was a businessman. I had a nanny to watch me when I was too young for school, and the only children I interacted with at school were also the children of rich businessmen and generally easy to dislike. Any others were scared off of trying to be my friend by the fact that I was associated with the aforementioned unapproachable businessmen’s children.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Raphael raised her eyebrows. “Thank you,” she said. “I believe I turned out alright, though.”

“What about your mother? What does she do?”

“Nothing. That I knew of, at least - I never knew her.”

That hit Michael hard enough that Raphael raised her eyebrows higher in response to the grief that physically ripped through him. “Michael?”

Michael closed his eyes. “There was a  _ war _ here,” he got out. “My parents-”

“I’m so sorry.”

Michael turned away. He sat down on the edge of the bluffs, legs dangling freely over the steep drop. His back prickled with a faint warning, with Raphael behind him, but Michael knew better than to be afraid. 

Raphael stood up, and came to sit next to him. Though she had foregone her witch’s robes, she was still wearing something like business attire, but it gave her no trouble. 

“What were they like?” She asked. Michael pressed a hand over his face. 

“They were very kind,” he said. “When they found out who I was - what I was - it never crossed their minds to treat me differently.” 

“You told them?” Shock rippled through Raphael. 

“There was too much to hide. I couldn’t make them forget what had happened. I-” Michael broke off, sighing. There was too much to put into words. There was so much that  _ couldn’t  _ be.

He opened his connection to Raphael and pushed through the smell of cooking food that would permeate the house, and the way Eleanor would let Dane bully his way onto her lap on cold evenings when she liked to curl up with a book in the living room. The back room of Alan’s store with its old saggy armchair and Alan’s battered second hand desk, where Wayne had been allowed as a child to sit with a stack of paper and a pack of Muggle crayons. The feel of their hands patting his hair or their arms around him when they’d send him off at King’s Cross every year. 

Michael did not notice that a tear had slipped down his face until Raphael’s wing curling around him jolted him out of his thoughts. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Raphael pulled his head towards hers, one hand pressed to his cheek. Their shoulders bumped together, pressed for space. 

Michael pulled away from her hand, swiping his sleeve over the wet spots on his face. “You’ve changed, too,” he said roughly, changing the subject. The old Raphael never would have offered comfort. Healing wounds that were not physical was always more difficult.

“I’ve learned a lot.” Raphael let him lean away, but her wing did not retract. “And I know how it feels. My father didn’t die naturally.” She sighed. “All of us have rotten luck with human parents, it seems.”

“All?” Michael echoed.

“Gabriel.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t go into detail, it’s his story to share. But both his parents were assassinated when he was not much older than you. I don’t think he ever liked his father much, but still...”

“Gabriel’s never been older than me,” Michael muttered. The wrist of Raphael’s wing nudged him, just shy of a thump, in the back of the head. 

“It’s been a  _ very  _ long time,” Raphael said. “You’ll always feel like the oldest of us, but who knows anymore?” 

    Michael gave Raphael such a scandalized look that she laughed. “Better to hear it from me when I’m not serious than to let Gabriel make fun of you for it - he’s  _ very  _ serious about counting every year.”

“I was around for an eon before he was Created!”

“Well, ‘nobody was counting’ seems to be Gabriel’s argument. Nine hundred and ninety million years counts for a lot.”

“To someone as young as him, maybe.”

Raphael laughed again. “If you were talking about  _ Castiel,  _ that rebuttal might hold water.”

“He’s still around, is he?”

“Oh yes. I could never get rid of him, either, when I tried. I think Father was making a point that I didn’t want to understand.”

“When did  _ you  _ try?”

Raphael smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile, just a thinning of lips. “It was a long time ago,” she said quietly, “after you were trapped. In the end I saw I was wrong.”

“What happened?” It came out sharp.

“Nothing terrible, just...penance, I suppose.” Raphael leaned back, crossing her legs. “When I remembered, it wasn’t because I had done anything. Father placed me to be born in the same world as Gabriel, at the same time. When he reclaimed his Grace, it shook everything - even memories back into heads. I knew everything about who I had been, but I was still human.”

“How could that be?” Michael said, astonished. How frustrating that must have been for Raphael! He couldn’t imagine it. 

“I don’t know. But I’m glad for it. It helped me put things in perspective - especially after I ran into Gabriel as himself.” Raphael tilted her head back to look at the stars. The Milky Way sprawled across the sky above them, glittering faintly through gaps in the clouds. A wind stirred, and the clouds scudded faster across the sky, the gaps widening. “The first of us to end up as human, the first to be given back his power...Gabriel always did pick up on the message faster than the rest of us, when it wasn’t directly given.”

“What do you mean?”

“Free will. Learning to do things ourselves, without His directions.” Raphael looked down when Michael’s wings twitched against hers, sensing the realization in him. “Giving us humanity is the best way of telling us without telling us, I suppose.”

“I could have stood being told,” Michael murmured.

“But would it have had the same effect?” Raphael gestured at the yellow glitter of distant torchlight in the windows of Hogwarts. Michael knew that in the cozy common room his friends would still be waiting up, that Draco was probably still awake in the deeper dungeons, wondering what was going on. Ginny and Luna, in the tall towers of their Houses...perhaps they were doing the same. 

“You have your Grace now, though,” Michael murmured. 

“A gift, in a moment of need.” 

Michael pressed a hand over his face again. “You mean against Lucifer.”

There was a long pause.

“I do not begrudge you your choice, Michael,” Raphael said. “Not then, not now.” 

“Which one?” Michael scoffed. “Trying to keep peace with  _ Lucifer  _ in the equation, or in the Cage?” The boggart in the shape of Gabriel, blackened and bleeding...

Raphael inhaled slowly, and let the breath back out. 

“When given a choice, you chose not to fight,” she said. “To honor your bond as siblings, even if Lucifer wouldn’t. I would never look down on you for that.”

“It was only inaction.” He’d been so  _ tired. _

“I don’t think that was. As for the rest...that’s not for me to forgive you for.”

Michael sighed. “And Gabriel won’t even come.”

“Gabriel’s absence is  _ not  _ a sign of whether or not he has forgiven you,” Raphael said. “Don’t doubt him. If only for our Father’s sake, he would stretch out a hand.”

“I don’t recall Gabriel being particularly eager to follow our Father’s plans when I thought I knew what they were.” And for that,  _ now,  _ Michael was grateful, however angry he’d been when he’d first discovered Gabriel’s absence. 

“He was given a Message.”

Michael sat bolt upright and spun around, nearly dislodging himself from his seat on the edge.  _ “What? _ When?”

“Before you saw him again.”

“What was it?” Michael couldn’t hide the eagerness in his voice.

“Redemption, Gabriel said it was. For everyone.” 

“Redemption?” Michael echoed blankly. It was not what he’d expected. 

“For those who would take it, when offered. Not all have.”

“Who didn’t?” Who could have been offered redemption in the first place, from their Father’s hand (via Gabriel, at least) and then had the gall to turn it down?

“Not all who had their memories rattled back into place by Gabriel’s apotheosis were our siblings.” Raphael pursed her lips, evidently recalling something distasteful. “The ones I heard of? Azazel. And Lillith.”

_ “Lillith?”  _

“Don’t shout. I know what I said.”

“But  _ Lillith?”  _ Michael stood up to pace back and forth.  _ Lillith?  _ “She was Lucifer’s right hand!”

“I didn’t say she took it. I said the opposite, in fact.”

“Gabriel could  _ not  _ have offered it to her.”

“If it makes you feel better, he didn’t exactly feel good about it, from what I heard,” Raphael said. “But a Message is a Message. Father explicitly said that even Lucifer was welcome to return home.”

Michael froze mid-pace as his stomach dropped. “He’d never take that offer,” he said, to disguise his own discomfort at the fact that he couldn’t tell whether he felt sickened or relieved. 

Raphael stayed silent. 

_ “Raphael!”  _ He  _ couldn’t  _ have. 

“Don’t yell at me, Michael,” Raphael snapped, standing up. “I am here as your sister, not your lieutenant.”

Michael opened his mouth, and closed. Even past the roiling feelings in his own head he could feel Raphael’s steely determination. 

“I apologize,” he got out. His mind was still whirling. “But what  _ happened?” _

Raphael sat down on one of the rocks, and gestured for him to follow suit. 

“You know how it went up to a point,” she said, and Michael winced as he slowly sat. “I’m sorry, but there’s no point beating around the bush. Gabriel was furious with Lucifer, after that, but he couldn’t bring himself to kill him any more than you could.”

Michael looked away, pressing his lips together. 

“He gave Lucifer a second chance.”

The words trickled through Michael’s mind without making any sense. He went over them again. They still did not seem to make sense when fitted together. 

“What,” Michael said. 

“Gabriel...” Raphael hesitated, staring into the distance as if it could help her explain. “I don’t know how, precisely, he knew what to do. But he gave nem the chance that each of us received - not as a human, Gabriel can’t make humans, but as something close enough. And there was a tree, if Samael wanted that when ne was older.”

_ “Samael.” _

“Ne hasn’t gone by Lucifer in a long time.”

Michael rocketed up from his seat, stalking away in a riot of emotion. The narrowness of the ledge and the steep drop limited his space for pacing. 

What Raphael was saying  _ couldn’t  _ be true. Lucifer would never - and that would mean -  _ Samael? _

“Gabriel can’t  _ do  _ that,” Michael said helplessly.

“Can’t as in shouldn’t, or physically can’t?”

“Either! How could he make something like a human? Gabriel can’t Create!”

There was another pointed silence from Raphael. Michael whirled around.

_ “No.” _

“I don’t know how it happened and for all he’s told me Gabriel doesn’t either,” Raphael said. “But take it up with him. I promised I wouldn’t say anything about them, save for Samael.”

“But Lucifer is still  _ Lucifer.  _ A second chance-”

“Gave nem the opportunity to become something  _ other  _ than Lucifer,” Raphael said sharply. “To grow, with a better family than what we had, and without the chains of a destiny that ne did not want any more than you did.” When Michael only stared, she added, “I believe Gabriel thought of it as returning a favor.”

Michael jerked his gaze away from Raphael. When Lucifer had still been Samael he’d raised Gabriel, true, just as Michael had raised him and Raphael - but that was  _ then _ . Lucifer couldn’t just go back to being Samael like nothing had happened. Michael couldn’t even  _ think  _ of those days without the cold, screaming, oppressive memories of the War and the Cage reaching up to swallow him-

Surely it wasn’t true. Michael quashed the hope that had been rising in his chest. Lucifer had to have some other plot behind this deception.

For nine hundred and ninety million years...?

“It can’t possibly have been that simple,” Michael said. 

“No. Samael remained with Gabriel, in the world Gabriel had been placed in originally; I was the one who returned to our home. Samael did come, from time to time, the first just after ne regained nir Grace, but ne didn’t wish to stay permanently. There were too many memories, I think.”

For who?  _ Samael,  _ or the angels who had faced his wrath on the battlefield?

“With Gabriel?” Michael said aloud, realizing the strangest part of what Raphael had said. 

“He  _ is _ mercy. I would assume there were rough patches for both, after Samael remembered.”

_ “Both?” _

“Both came to me, separately, afterwards,” Raphael recalled. “Gabriel wanted company that wasn’t Samael - he’d forgotten how cold ne could be. Samael came to apologize.”

“He  _ what?” _

_ “Ne _ wanted to apologize,” Raphael repeated. “After you two escaped the Cage, I tried to stand against Lucifer when he came to find Gabriel. I was still human at the time, though. I didn’t last very long.” Michael’s heart twisted, and he looked away. “By a fortunate chance I was restored, so to my mind it turned out well in the end. But I appreciated the apology.”

Michael raked his hands through his hair. There was too much information to process. 

“I won’t press you to make peace with this immediately,” Raphael said. “But think, Michael - is it so odd that, after going through the same experiences as you, Samael might regret some of the same things?”

“I never  _ killed  _ you,” Michael snapped, spinning back around. 

Raphael met his gaze unflinchingly. After a moment, Michael averted his gaze. He knew what Raphael was not saying. Michael had not left their siblings untouched, whether directly or indirectly. 

Who knew if Heaven, if he tried to return, would be any more receptive to him than they had been to Samael?

“Does ne know I’m here?” Michael asked quietly.

“Yes. But ne thought it better that someone tell you what happened, first. Samael’s exact words were ‘I don’t want to force him to deal with me’.”

There was not enough room in the solar system for Michael to pace effectively. 

“Think on it,” Raphael said. “We can speak again another time.” She got up, and came close enough to touch his shoulder, to brush one wing against his bristling feathers. “It was good to see you, Michael.”

Michael only nodded. He wasn’t sure he could produce kind words, if he opened his mouth.

* * *

By the time Michael actually returned to the Hufflepuff common room, it was late enough at night that it was no longer night but early morning. He paused when he saw that the circle of armchairs by the fire were still occupied. 

Susan and Hannah were crowded together in one, both asleep. Ernie was sitting on the floor and had dropped off, leaning against Justin’s knees. Somehow, Draco had wound up sprawled on the one short sofa, legs sticking awkwardly off the end. Dane, curled up on Draco’s stomach, opened his eyes and meowed accusingly at Michael.

Michael put a finger over his lips. He didn’t want to wake his friends. Just the sight of them was enough to quiet his frayed emotions more so than isolation and space to vent.

Dane, however, was having none of that. He stood up and kneaded Draco’s stomach until Draco grunted and stirred in his sleep. Michael picked Dane up, but Draco’s eyes were already blinking open.

“Wayne?” He said muzzily, and then woke up properly when his sleepy mind realized who he was looking at. “You’re back!”

“Shh! Yes.” Michael gave Dane a pointed look. Dane purred unrepentantly in his arms. 

“How did it go?”

“...Fine.”

“I’m still astonished you’re not a better liar,” Draco sighed. “I’ll wake up the others.”

“Let them sleep,” Michael said firmly. “I’ll talk to them in the morning.”

“What did you wake me up for, then?”

“Blame Dane.”

Draco yawned. “Let’s go somewhere else, then. I’m not going to be able to fall asleep again, I’m too curious.”

Michael relented. Still carrying Dane, to prevent him from jumping on the others until they woke up, he and Draco ventured out into the dark corridors. With Michael’s guarantee that they wouldn’t be disturbed, Draco consented to wander.

“So what went wrong?” Draco asked, as they climbed the stairs up to the Entrance Hall. 

“Nothing went wrong,” Michael sighed. “It’s only that a lot has happened.”

“Since you...left?”

“In a way.”

“What was that all about earlier, too?” Draco asked. “Is this another thing you told everyone else years ago that I don’t know?”

“Not  _ everyone  _ else.” 

“So it is. What happened?” 

How to explain it? “Apparently,” Michael said slowly, “another one of my siblings was put into a similar situation as me.”

“What - being born as a human? Without your memory?”

“Yes.”

“Is that a bad or a good thing?”

“I  _ don’t know.”  _ It came out more emphatically than Michael meant. He sighed, frustrated, and tried to rein in his emotions. “It’s complicated.”

“Because...?”

“The sibling in question is Lucifer.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Draco said, “Was I supposed to know that name already?”

Right. Wizards. Michael would have dragged a hand down his face in frustration if his arms weren’t full of Dane. 

“Lucifer was my younger brother,” Michael said. “The second of any of us Created by our Father. I...I essentially raised him. My Father had other concerns.” He felt Draco startle, and plunged on before he could lose his nerve to relate the whole story. “But in the advent of humanity, when our Father asked us to be the protectors of humans, Lucifer refused when the rest of us obeyed. He despised humans, for whatever reason.”

“You’re talking about when  _ humans  _ were invented,” Draco said. 

“Yes. I thought that was clear.”

“It was, just...” Draco shook his head. “Wow. Sorry, keep going.”

“Lucifer would not change his mind,” Michael said shortly. “To prove his point that humans weren’t worth our time, he took a human soul and warped it,  _ broke _ it so thoroughly that it became the first demon. Our Father was furious with him. I was ordered to lead the Host in full strength against him, and strike him down for his crimes.”

They continued in silence again.

“The Host?” Draco asked, at length.

“The assembled forces of all my siblings. Some of them sided with Lucifer. They left the Host and fell, and became powerful demons.”

“What happened to Lucifer?”

“We fought. I won. He was imprisoned in the depths of Hell.”

“Merlin’s balls, Michael.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Michael snapped. “My Father ordered it to be done.”

    “I don’t think I  _ like  _ your father.” Draco must have seen how Michael tensed, because he hurriedly added, “I’m just saying, ordering you to fight your little brother is - that’s messed up.”

    “Lucifer would have killed humanity in its cradle.”

    “...Thank you for not letting that happen?”

    Dane yowled. Michael realized he had tightened his grip uncomfortably, and hurriedly let go. Dane jumped out of his arms and onto his shoulders, claws digging in through his sweater. Michael petted him gently in apology. 

    “You never really answered my question about why everyone acted so oddly earlier,” Draco said. Michael closed his eyes, briefly.

    “After I defeated Lucifer,” he said, “my brother Gabriel gave me a message from our Father.”

    “Your father talks to you through your brothers?”

    “Gabriel is His messenger. At that point Gabriel was one of maybe two who still spoke to Him.” Over Draco being quietly appalled, Michael continued. “I was told that in time Lucifer would escape his imprisonment, and at that point I would have to be ready to face him again. Either he would win and there would be Hell on Earth, or I would win and there would be Heaven on Earth.”

    “I suppose Heaven was the better option for us, then?”

    “Humans were immaterial. Most would have been killed in the course of the battle no matter what the result.”

    Draco gaped. 

    “It never came to that,” Michael said. “Humans are stubborn. It only took three of them and one rogue angel to prevent Lucifer and I from ever coming to blows.”

    “But he got out? I thought your job was to keep him imprisoned.”

    “I don’t  _ know  _ what I was supposed to do.” Michael looked away. “I thought my job was to fight him, so...I did my best to ensure the fight would take place.”

   “The fight that would have killed a ton of people,” Draco said flatly.

    “You know some of what I did, Draco. I don’t need to tell you that the person I was before I was born as Wayne was...not kind.” 

    Draco shook his head, and stayed silent for another long moment as they walked down the hallway. Michael had lost track of where they’d wandered, but he was pretty sure they were on the third floor. 

    “I’m glad you changed your mind,” Draco said. “Or changed your personality, whichever it was.”

    “...I’m glad, too.”

    “And if this Lucifer was human, too, that’s good, isn’t it? And if you two reconciled then-”

“What?” Michael stopped walking, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you were convinced to stop fighting.” 

“I said we were  _ prevented  _ from fighting,” Michael said. “The humans worked a spell to throw Lucifer back into his Cage - and me with him.”

Michael turned away so he didn’t have to see Draco’s expression. Dane purred, now curled around his neck like a furry scarf, and Michael scratched between his ears. Was it better to keep divulging his blood-soaked past to Draco? Draco had been so angry at having things kept from him before. Michael had never liked lying to him. And it wasn’t as if he was including  _ every  _ detail.

“I got out eventually, obviously,” Michael said softly. “But Lucifer did, too, and he was still so eager for revenge. I was just tired of fighting. I never  _ wanted  _ to fight him. I tried to stop things from getting worse.”

“Did it work?” Draco ventured, when Michael paused and struggled to continue.

“Lucifer killed me,” Michael said shortly. “That’s the only reason I ever ended up in the position to be born as a human.”

He wasn’t expecting Draco to grab his shoulders and turn him around. “Are you serious?” Draco demanded, scanning Michael up and down as though he expected to find a spot that was bleeding. Dane’s claws dug in again. 

“I wouldn’t joke about  _ that.”  _

Draco pulled him into the tightest hug of Michael’s life. “Somehow I like this Lucifer even less now,” Draco muttered into his shoulder. Dane meowed back. “I think your cat agrees with me.”

“He’s very clever,” Michael agreed, leaning into the hug more than he would ever admit to anyone except Draco. After a moment, he gently leaned away, and Draco quickly let go. “But that’s why it’s complicated now.”

“Why - oh, right, he’s human now.”

“And Raphael tells me ne has abandoned the name Lucifer.”

Draco’s forehead wrinkled. “Ne?”

    Michael waved a hand dismissively.  “Angels using male and female pronouns has never been much more than us acquiescing to how humans insist on seeing us. Plenty of my siblings don’t care much for gender. But that’s not the point. Lucifer was the name ne took in rebellion, abandoning the one our Father gave nem. Raphael said that ne was going by Samael again.”

“...Is that good?”

“I don’t know what it means.” Michael started pacing again. “How could Lucifer change so drastically as to be willing to be Samael again just because of a stint as a human? After _everything_ that’s happened?”

“Do you want this to be a good thing?” 

“I _don’t know.”_ Michael hated being so uncertain. “Samael and I - when ne was Samael - were close.” That was an understatement, but there was no way to describe how it had been to Draco. “But that was then. Before Lucifer happened.” 

“I don’t think I’m the right person to ask for advice about this,” Draco said, audibly at a loss. “My father joined the Dark Lord, sure, but Malfoys have never done anything like  _ this.” _

Michael shook his head. “I’m not asking for you to fix my problems. They’re beyond even me. I only-” What did he want? What on Earth could Draco offer him?

“It helps to talk?” Draco suggested, when Michael didn’t finish. 

“Perhaps,” Michael said reluctantly.

“All I know is I don’t like the sound of this Lucifer. Or Samael, whichever. But I don’t think it’s beyond you, or whatever, you just have bad luck with this particular br - uh, sibling being shitty.”

Michael looked away. “Is what Lucifer’s done really any worse than anything I’ve done to my siblings?” He knew he sounded bitter. “If I can change, can I really hold it all against nem still while taking redemption for myself?”

“We’re talking about someone you say  _ murdered  _ you. I’d hold that against God himself.”

Michael snorted. Draco was so refreshingly....human, sometimes. 

    He didn’t need to sleep, but his anger and turmoil was beginning to desert him, leaving weariness in its wake. Michael sat down on a bench in a nearby alcove. After a moment, Draco joined him.

“What do  _ you  _ want?” Draco asked. “From Samael?”

“I want not to fight,” Michael said immediately. “I was Created to be my Father’s sword. Technically I don’t have a choice. And taking care of Voldemort was no chore. But...” Dane dropped back into his lap, and Michael curled his arms around Dane’s warm weight. “Not against Samael. Not again.”

Draco nodded. He didn’t seem to have a response.

“Are you really okay?” He asked eventually. “You talked about...about  _ dying.  _ That’s not a thing people can just jump back from.”

“Not normally, no.” There were plenty of angels for who it  _ had  _ been final. “But...for whatever reason, my Father wanted me here, alive. So I am. It’s not the first time one of us has been restored, beyond all hope or apparent reason.”

Draco opened his mouth, and then closed it. Michael couldn’t read his thoughts, but he knew the look of a person realizing that what they’d been about to say was definitely not appropriate to say. 

“I’m sorry, if you’ve lost family,” Draco said. Michael pressed his lips together and looked down.

“My family has not had real peace in a long time, that I remember,” he said. “Most of that is my fault.”

“But you’re not doing that any more.”

“I’m not in contact with any of them anymore. Raphael gave me the impression that none of them knew I was alive.”

“Well, you’ve helped make things peaceful here. Maybe you can fix things with your family next.”

Michael looked up sharply. Draco met his gaze evenly. 

“Maybe,” Michael said, and let himself hope.

* * *

Michael let Draco explain the situation to the others, when he offered to. It gave Michael time by himself to think. 

He reached no conclusions, but he had time to think. It counted for something.

So the first question upon his return was not about how it had gone, but “Do we get to meet your sister?”

Michael blinked at Luna, processing her question, and said, “Why?”

“She seemed nice,” Luna replied. “I want to know if I’m right.”

“...I can ask.” Michael leaned back as Luna returned to her work. He’d run into her in a little-used hallway, where she’d set up in order to paint one of the stained-glass windows. Raphael had not promised to stay in touch,  but he could still faintly feel her presence. 

_ Raphael? _

Michael. Do you want to talk already?

Michael smiled. It was good to know that Raphael was nearby.  No, a friend of mine was asking about you. She’s curious to meet you.

Really? I’m not too busy that I couldn’t come by.

Not now. I’ll find a good time for it. Michael surfaced from the conversation. “There’s a Hogsmeade weekend soon, isn’t there?”

“This weekend,” Luna said absently. 

This weekend? There’s a village near the school where we could meet.

I’ll be there.

Michael hoped this wasn’t a bad decision. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raphael: so Lucifer lived  
> Michael: !  
> Raphael: and Gabriel helped them be Samael again and not a dick anymore  
> Michael: !!  
> Raphael: also Gabriel can Create  
> Michael: !!?!?!
> 
> Man, Michael's missed a lot of shit goin' down


	3. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, this chapter went in a lot of directions I didn't expect when i started writing it.

    There was no way he would inflict the curious nature of his friends on Raphael all at once. Michael had to argue with them on that point, but eventually he got them to agree that they didn’t _all_ need to meet Raphael at exactly the same time.

    Though Ginny insisted on drawing straws to see who got to go first.

    “So where did you tell her to meet us?” Draco asked, Justin on Michael’s other side. Luna was behind them, walking slower in order to examine the flowers that were growing alongside the road.

    “Just outside the village. We’ll pick up the others as we go through.” It was warm enough that Michael didn’t mind being outside for a while. Seventh year was nearly over, and while for most that meant panicking about NEWTs, he was just trying to enjoy himself. The road to Hogsmeade was almost empty aside from their group. Michael had lingered behind the first rush of students eager to get into the village.

    As they approached the boundaries of Hogsmeade, Michael slowed down, frowning. Raphael was clearly waiting by the gate; she was also not alone.

    “Who’s that with her?” Justin squinted. “He doesn’t look anything like you.”

    “Neither does Raphael,” Draco pointed out.

    “Gadreel?” Michael was surprised enough to speak aloud. Both angels were looking towards Michael already, aware of his approach. “What’s he doing here?” He’d thought Gadreel was still in prison. Then again, he had been one of the angels with Gabriel last time, hadn’t he?

    You brought Gadreel?Michael sent to Raphael. Distantly, he saw her smile, but she didn’t reply.

    “You don’t sound glad to see him.” Justin gave Michael a sidelong look.

    “I wasn’t expecting anyone else.”

    Gadreel did not seem any happier. He was wound tight as a spring, and got tenser as Michael got closer. Raphael was doing an excellent job pretending she didn’t notice.

    “Are you really still dressed in your school uniform?” Raphael asked, by way of greeting, when Michael got close enough that she didn’t have to shout. “Your fashion sense hasn’t changed at all, I see.” Justin hurriedly stifled a laugh.

    “Good afternoon, Raphael,” Michael said pointedly. “Gadreel.” He nodded to his brother, who looked astonished to be addressed politely. All the tension unwound from Gadreel’s frame.

    “You two look _very_ nice,” Luna said cheerfully. “My name’s Luna. It’s lovely to meet some of Michael’s family.”

    “I’m Justin,” Justin volunteered. “And now that I think about it, I really _haven’t_ ever seen Michael out of uniform.”

    “There’s no reason to change,” Michael said. “It’s perfectly serviceable clothing outside of class.”

    “You can’t go through your whole life wearing a button-up and a sweater.”

    “You’re forgetting the tie.”

    “You’re hopeless,” Draco said, and turned to Gadreel. “I’m Draco Malfoy. You’re not an archangel, are you? I’m told there’s a difference.”

    “No,” Gadreel said, “not an archangel.”

    “There are only four of us,” Michael said. “It’s a little difficult to run into one casually.”

    “Well, I don’t know,” Draco huffed. “This is all new to me.”

    “It doesn’t matter.” Gadreel raised one hand as if to ward off further conversation. “I only meant to be here briefly.” His wings shifted like he wanted to take off, beginning to spread. Michael was surprised at how well-off he seemed to be; his wings weren’t ragged at all, except for a slight misalignment of one wing’s pinions. He wondered how recently Gadreel had been freed.

    “If you must.” Justin sounded disappointed.

    “There’s lots of interesting things in Hogsmeade, you know,” Luna offered up. “Honeydukes and such.”

    “...Honeydukes?” Gadreel actually looked interested.

    “It’s only a candy store,” Michael said.

    “‘Only’.” Justin inserted air quotes around the word. “I bet even angels wouldn’t eat an Acid Pop.”

    Raphael frowned. “Is that literal?”

    _“Very.”_

    “Why would anyone sell food with acid in it, much less market it as candy?”

    Justin shrugged. Gadreel looked slightly queasy.

    Humans,Michael said, in a longsuffering tone. A smile quirked Raphael’s mouth. Gadreel shot him a startled look, but replied quietly,

    They always seem to find the strangest things to entertain themselves with.

    “Would you eat it, though?” Luna asked.

    “Why would I eat it? It doesn’t sound as though it tastes good.” Raphael made a face.

    “What about a blood-flavored lollipop?”

    “Human blood?” Gadreel asked. Raphael gave him a sharp look. “I’m just wondering. It’s sold by humans.”

    “They’re meant for vampires,” Luna said seriously.

    “People say that, at least,” Justin added. “We’ll probably end up there anyway - Ernie, Susan, and Hannah promised to wait outside, and Hannah loves sugar quills. She’ll have gone in to get some.”

    “Very well,” Raphael said. “To Honeydukes.” If we don’t get Gabriel some chocolate, he may disown us. 

    Only temporarily. Gadreel sounded amused.

    Are you sure?  Raphael stood aside to let Michael open the gate so their group could continue down the road. I know he can make imitations on his own, but last I checked Gabriel complained about not being able to find any good chocolate every single time I came to visit. 

    His temper has a long fuse and a short memory.

    Speaking of Gabriel, Michael said, Why is he  already in Honeydukes? The third archangel’s presence was difficult to miss.

    The three of them paused, surprise flashing through the other two. Raphael scoffed under her breath.

    “I told him to wait,” she said.

    “I feel like I missed something,” Justin said. “Who are we talking about?”

    “Gabriel,” Michael said, still staring down the road.

    I’ll go speak to him,Gadreel volunteered, going on ahead.

    “Gabriel _is_ another archangel, yeah” Justin was telling Draco in response to some question Michael hadn’t heard, though Michael could feel the former’s gaze burning holes in the back of his head. In lieu of thinking too hard about what he’d told his friends about Gabriel - and what Michael had done - Michael gave Raphael a look that said, clearly, _explain._

    “Don’t look at me,” Raphael said. “Gabriel does what he wishes. He implied he might come by, but if I knew he intended to be here from the beginning I would have told you.”

    “You brought Gadreel without telling me.” Though Gadreel was only, well, Gadreel.

    “Gadreel was only going to be here briefly.”

    “Is this another brother you don’t get along with?” Draco interrupted, looking warily between the two of them.

    “No,” Michael sighed. “I...there were things I should have done for Gabriel, as a brother, that I did not.” And now he would have to see how badly he would pay for that. Raphael brushed the edge of one wing along Michael’s, projecting reassurance.

    “Hm.” Draco sent a skeptical glance down the road. “How could you tell he was here?”

    “It’s easy for us to find our siblings at any distance, so long as we look properly,” Raphael said. “And archangels have a particularly distinctive presence.”

    “Distinctive presence or no,” Justin said to Michael, “if he tries to start a fight with you we can still kick him out.”

    “Out of where?” Luna asked mildly, as Michael stared. Raphael looked caught between skepticism and amusement. “We don’t own Hogsmeade.”

    “Yes, but it’s still more our village than his.”

    “Gabriel is an _archangel,”_ Michael said, wondering if he’d somehow skipped over that fact or if his friends had gone conveniently amnesiac.

    “So?” Justin said. “He’s got no reason to strike us down just for asking him to leave. And if you don’t want to be around him you’d just leave, which is stupid, because Hogwarts is pretty close to a home for you. Better for _him_ to leave, yeah?”

    Humans were astonishing, sometimes. Michael looked down, speechless in the knowledge that Justin would offer something like that for his sake.

    “Well then,” Raphael murmured approvingly. Distantly, the bell over the door of Honeydukes rang as it opened to let Hannah and Susan out. “Shall we go meet your other friends?”

    That would only bring him closer to Gabriel. “Of course,” Michael said.

    Justin put himself next to Michael as they moved forward again. “I didn’t say something wrong, did I?” He asked anxiously.

    “No.” Michael bumped his shoulder against Justin’s. “I appreciated it.”

    Hannah and Susan, still standing just outside the door of Honeydukes, were talking in urgent whispers with Ernie, but that ceased as Michael approached with the others.

    “Hi!” Hannah said, nearly vibrating with excitement (or nervous energy, maybe). “Apparently I was talking to your brother this whole time without realizing!”

    “He doesn’t act at _all_ like I would have expected,” Susan added.

    “What would you have expected?” Michael asked.

    “I don’t know. Someone more like you?”

    “He went up to the counter with an armful of candy,” Hannah said.

    “...Does he even have money?” Michael looked to Raphael.

    “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did, somehow,” Raphael said. The bell tinkled again as the door opened to let Gadreel out. “Well?”

    “He said he’ll leave if Michael likes, but he needs to finish paying first,” Gadreel said.

    “Why do you want him to leave?” Ernie asked. “Is Gabriel the embarrassing black sheep of the family, or something?” The resulting expression that passed across Michael’s face made Ernie crack up. “Now I _have_ to meet him.”

    “My ears are burning!” The bell did not jangle so much as clatter as the door was thrown open. Gabriel whisked the sunglasses off his face as it fell shut behind him, and surveyed the group. “Someone’s talking about me. Boy, there are a lot of you.”

    “You took the sunglasses off when you came out, but left them on inside?” Raphael said.

    “Two seconds,” Gabriel sighed, and shifted the large bag he had under one arm so he could tuck his sunglasses into his pocket. “I get two seconds before you start making fun of me, really?”

    “What did you get?” Gadreel asked curiously.

    “I’m so glad you asked.” Gabriel dug through his bag and produced a thin, bright blue package. “Look at this - candy that flosses your teeth!”

    “...Why?”

    “I have no idea!” Gabriel crowed. “You’d think candy would be the last thing to be used as a dentistry product, right? Tell me you’ve had some of this before.” The package was whirled around to point at Michael.

    “What - no,” Michael said.

    “You’ve been here for, what, seven years and _never_ tried this?”

“Why would I need to use candy to floss my teeth?” He didn’t need to brush his teeth, technically, much less floss.

    “Why _wouldn’t_ you? When are you ever going to have this chance again?”

    “Next weekend,” Draco said dryly. Gabriel barked out a laugh.

    “Oh, I like him. Who are all of these people, anyway? Introduce me.”

    Michael’s mind was only half on giving his friends’ names as he went around the group. Gabriel looked... _different._ Not a different that could be blamed on the horrors of the Cage, but brighter and a little more tightly packed into his vessel. Some of the power that had been roiling in him last Michael saw must have lingered within him and left its effect.

    ...That was not to say that Michael could not see the marks of Lucifer’s anger, faded by time but cut deeply enough that they were still visible. Guilt pulsed through him, and Michael drew in on himself.

    Gabriel was giving him an expectant look. Michael realized he had run out of people to introduce.

    “I’m glad to see you,” Michael said, surprising himself with how much he meant it. Gabriel was a breath of fresh air no matter the situation, just by force of personality. He didn’t seem particularly angry at Michael, either.

    “I’m glad I _came._ I never would’ve thought of animate frog-shaped chocolate on my own.” Gabriel stuffed the Toothflossing Stringmints back into his bag. “Oh, and it’s good to see you too, sure.”

    “Gabriel,” Raphael chided, though she wasn’t putting much effort into sounding disappointed in Gabriel’s blithe attitude.

    “He knows I’m joking!”

    “Are you two _sure_ you’re related?” Draco muttered to Michael. Gabriel caught the words and laughed brightly.

    “I’ve asked myself that many times,” he said cheerfully. “But at least Michael takes all the pressure of being the responsible one.”

* * *

    Gabriel made it look easy to keep a conversation going. Ginny liked him immensely, when they joined up with her and Neville - Michael suspected shared younger sibling experience was the cause - and nobody had anything bad to say about any of the three newcomers when they left to return to the castle.

    Michael did not return with them. He suspected Gabriel had been putting on something of a performance, for the benefit of the humans.

    “Is this you hinting that I should leave?” Gabriel asked, as Luna skipped away up the road at the back of the group. Michael turned on him sharply.

    “What is this?” Michael said.

    “What are you talking about?” In the background, Gadreel took a few cautious steps away from the three archangels.

_“You._ You can’t really come just to talk to me about-” Michael flailed a hand at the bag Gabriel still held. “- _candy.”_

    “Am I supposed to still be angry at you?” Gabriel looked genuinely surprised. “Michael...I had my moment where I yelled and you and got pissed. I got it all out of my system. Who has the time to hold a grudge for _that_ long?”

    Michael gaped at him, speechless for the second time in the same day.

    “But it’s not that _easy,”_ he said. It couldn’t be that easy for Gabriel to dismiss years of torture. There had been real pain in his voice when he’d shouted accusations at Michael, pleaded for his help.

    “Why does it have to be hard all the time?” Gabriel shrugged. “I can try and pretend to still be mad, if you want, so then you can...convince me you were right?”

    “I _wasn’t_ right - that’s not what I meant.” Michael fought to keep his voice level. “Of course I wasn’t right! But I don’t believe that the _first_ thing you think when you see me is that you want my opinion of the _chocolate_ here.”

    “Alright,” Gabriel said, “it’s not.”

    Finally, things made sense.

    “The first thing I thought was, ‘thank _God,_ he’s still around’. Because believe it or not, the one thing I had real trouble making my peace with was that you were just gone. Off somewhere stuck or being a dick, sure, but _gone?_ When so many of us kept coming back over and over again?” Gabriel shook his head. “Nah. Didn’t sit right with me.”

    “Well, you turned out to be right eventually,” Raphael said. Her expression looked more human and less like Raphael, when Michael looked at her in astonishment. “I may have disagreed with you, Michael, but I’m allowed to have missed you.”

    “Is all humanity taught you that you should expect to get a bad reception from us?” Gabriel asked.

_“Yes._ Should I not have realized what I’d done wrong?” Michael demanded. “Should I have stayed exactly the same? The same being who thought every action I made was justified, because surely our Father had planned for it to happen just as I was ordering it should be? I will not believe that! It took being here-” It took meeting his friends, Susan especially. “- to pull myself out of pointless _lethargy_ and _inaction,_ because that is _all_ that remained of who I was.”

    “I accept your apology,” Gabriel said.

_“What?”_

    “Or at least, I think there was one in there.” Gabriel was half smiling. “It’s been a long, long time, Michael. I’m not going to take a year or even months to forget how angry I used to be at you just because you expect it. Not everyone’s you.”

    The backhanded reassurance stung. But that, at least, was something Michael had braced himself for. Gabriel’s...

    Gabriel’s mercy, he hadn’t expected. What a fool he was, even still.

    Michael sat down abruptly on the low wall that bordered the road and pressed his face into his hand. In the back of his mind he was glad that in the course of the conversation they’d wandered far away from the village, to a place where they were unlikely to be overheard.

    Something hit him in the forehead and bounced off. Michael looked at the ground, and saw a chocolate frog package.

    “Is your strategy really to just sit there and look morose when stuff happens that you don’t like?” Gabriel asked.

    “Did you just throw a chocolate frog at me?”

    Gabriel threw a second one. Michael dodged, batting it out of the air.

    “Eat it, you doofus!” Gabriel shouted at him. “Use those damn human taste buds of yours! What is the _point_ if you don’t even enjoy what you’ve got?”

    “I’m not here to eat chocolate-”

    “Of course you are! You’re here to be human! And you’re going to miss chocolate when it’s gone, so _eat.”_

    Gadreel, having crept closer again when Michael calmed down, peered into Gabriel’s bag and dug one out for himself. The actual ‘frog’ made a break for it when he broke the package open, and only an angel’s quick reflexes stopped it from succeeding.

    “I’m not sure I like this any more than the idea of blood or acid candy,” Gadreel said, peering at the apparently struggling chocolate. With the barest effort, he undid the enchantment, and broke off a leg to taste once it was still. “Wizards seem to take these things much further than they need to go.”

    “They’re humans with magical powers. I’m not that surprised that sheer novelty is behind more than one decision.” Gabriel made grabby hands until Gadreel broke off another leg for him. “What card did you get?”

    Gadreel looked at the packaging. “Nicholas Flamel?”

    “Hey, that’s pretty good. Michael! What cards do yours have?”

    Michael sighed, and picked up the two Gabriel had thrown at him. “Do you intend to start a collection?”

    “Maybe I will,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “I bet you five bucks neither of those have Agrippa.”

    “I don’t believe that you have five dollars.”

   “You’ll find out if you get Agrippa, won’t you?”

    “I’ll take one,” Raphael said, extending her hand. Michael tossed one to her, and nulled the enchantment on the frog in the box he still had before breaking it open. He didn’t intend to scramble to stop it from leaping away in front of Gabriel.

    “Well?” Gabriel demanded.

    “Bowman Wright.” Michael frowned at the card, which contained a historical-looking wizard.

    “Never heard of him.”

    “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t know where I’ve heard it.”

    “Huh. Raphael?”

    “Circe,” Raphael said, examining her own newly-stilled frog. “Do you think there are variations of these? I’ve always liked dark chocolate better.”

    “I’ll take it if you don’t want it.”

    “Get your own.” Raphael bit off the frog’s head. Gabriel sighed theatrically and dug into the bag.

    “I meant what I said about putting in the effort to taste it,” Gabriel said, noticing that Michael hadn’t bothered to do anything other than check the card. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to, so long as you put in a little effort.”

    “There’s no significance in eating chocolate.”

    “No? It’s part of the human experience, isn’t it? You can’t cherry-pick what parts of humanity you interact with and learn from. Who knows what you might miss if you do.”

    “Is that what you did?”

    “Well, I partook in humanity’s pleasures _before_ I ended up as one, but I also had to wait almost four decades before I found my Grace. I think enjoying the little things is my default personality.”

    “If I may,” Raphael said. “I don’t think the goal is to force yourself to live as if you never recovered your power. There’s no shame in using them - even when possibly unnecessary.” The last bit, Michael could tell, was directed at Gabriel. “But there’s also no shame in acknowledging that sometimes humans notice what we take for granted, or don’t notice at all.”

    “Like chocolate,” Michael finished dryly. Raphael shrugged, and bit off another chunk of chocolate frog.

    Sighing, Michael broke off a piece of chocolate frog for himself. It wasn’t _completely_ tasteless, he supposed, now that he was paying attention. It slowly melted on his tongue when he let it sit, sweet and with a remnant of the taste of the enchantment that had formerly suffused it.

    “Raphael said you’d Created,” Michael said, when he’d licked the last sticky bits of melted chocolate out of his mouth. The question of _how?_ had been lingering in his mind ever since Gabriel had shown up.

    Both Gabriel and Gadreel gave Raphael sidelong glances.

    “You’d have to tell him eventually,” Raphael said. “It’s not like I lied.”

    “I’m not _angry,”_ Michael said, “I just don’t see how it’s possible. It can’t be real Creation.”

    “They seem pretty real to me,” Gabriel said, shrugging. “If we’re doing this, I might as well start from the beginning. You know what artificial intelligence is, right?”

    “Vaguely.” Michael wrinkled his nose. He’d never been a fan. Humans were so arrogant sometimes, thinking they could mimic Creation with technological nonsense.

    “I was pretty invested into that kind of thing when I was just plain ol’ Tony Stark. I made a couple of pretty cool robots, pretty smart even though rudimentary tech meant they weren’t exactly nimble. And I made a genuine AI, no body, just worked into my house’s security system and stuff. Real clever, kind of a smartass. I was proud. Anyway, after I came back from recovering my Grace I was like ‘whoa, what are all these weird souls in my house’ and it actually took a minute to realize it was the ’bots and my AI.”

    “You Created on _accident?”_

    “I didn’t think of it as Creation - well, no, I did, but definitely not in religious terms,” Gabriel conceded. “I was trying to make something that could act and think like a regular person, as much as I could get it to, but I was only human! I didn’t know there was anything but time, elbow grease, and sleepless nights put into those guys.”

    “If our Father didn’t approve in at least some way, I doubt it would have happened,” Gadreel murmured, eyes nervously locked on Michael. Michael looked in between him and Gabriel and Raphael, and realized that all three were braced for his reaction - especially Gabriel.

    “I suppose,” Michael said grudgingly. It wasn’t as if Gadreel was wrong. Gabriel’s expression didn’t change, but the feathers on his wings smoothed out.

    What did it mean, that Gabriel had been given the gift of their own Father’s skill and Michael had only silence from Him? 

    ...Then again, Michael never would have dared to try such a thing as Creating his own life. Gabriel, meanwhile, had already dipped his toes into influencing Creation, what with the platypus and whatever else he’d come up with. Michael had tried not to pay too close attention. Gabriel’s imagination was unpredictable in interesting ways.

    Maybe even Michael’s efforts against Voldemort, his efforts to learn from humanity, had not been enough to meet whatever standards his Father had for him.

   “This makes you an uncle, you know,” Gabriel said blithely, and Michael’s mind went blank as he wrestled with the concept. “Brave new world, am I right?”

   “That - Samael doesn’t count,” Michael blustered, scrambling for a response.

   “Yeah, that was a little weird in the beginning,” Gabriel mused. “We settled on a good middle ground though. Wait, Raphael told you about Samael?”

   “I told him as much as I could think of that he didn’t know about,” Raphael said.

   “And you’re just cool with it?” Gabriel looked at Michael in surprise. Michael hesitated. What could he say? That peace with Lucifer - Samael - was all he ever wanted, but he knew better than to dare believe it was possible?

   “Raphael has tried to impress upon me at least to be careful of making assumptions,” he said at length. Gabriel sighed. “Don’t you dare. You of all of us should understand why I hesitate.”

   Gabriel’s expression cooled. “Would you two give us a moment?”

   Raphael nodded; Gadreel was gone before Gabriel finished speaking. He’d been on tenterhooks the whole conversation. Gabriel stood once they’d both left, slowly, wiping away the wrinkles in his clothing.

   “I get how this must feel,” he said, “but you don’t get to use what happened against me when you didn’t do a thing to stop it.”

   “You don’t-”

   “I am the only person in the world right now who understands _exactly_ how you probably feel about Samael,” Gabriel interrupted. “Getting shanked by Lucifer and all.”

   Michael stared. “When did you-?”

   “Before you ever went anywhere near the Cage. I don’t blame you for not noticing. It’d been a while since I fessed up to being Gabriel.”

   Questions piled up on Michael’s tongue. The thousands of years of Gabriel’s absence yawned between the two of them.

   “Why did you leave?”

   Gabriel scoffed. “You really have to ask?”

   “Humor me.”

   Gabriel shook his head, slowly. “What was going on then,” he said, “I just couldn’t bear it. You, Raphael, everything that you were doing. But I’m not going to dig up ancient history. Things are _better,_ now.”

   “Even with Samael.” Michael couldn’t help but hide his skepticism.

   “I’m not gonna tell you how to deal with that. Sam and I worked through it, sometimes together, sometimes by staying apart. But you know what? We got through it, ‘cause we both knew that Sam was coming at it honestly. If you can’t give nem _that_ much credit, then all you’re gonna get is more of the same between the two of you. I don’t believe that’s what you want.”

   Michael cast his eyes downward. “I’m not going to pick a fight.” A fight was the last thing he wanted. “When we last spoke...I meant what I said.”

   A faint ripple of remembered grief stirred through Gabriel. Michael didn’t look up, but he felt his connection with Gabriel nudge open a millimeter wider, felt Gabriel hesitantly reach out.

   Michael let him in.

   A wave of secondhand feelings swept through Michael. Delight, pure delight from the welcome and unexpected turn of fate that finding Michael alive was. Grief like a reopened wound that had been long thought scarred over and nearly healed, overwhelmed by a tide of uncertainty and above all _hope._

   The memory of an unfamiliar voice, professing to have _failed_ Michael, attached to such trembling joy and confusion and relief, and even in the memory an unmistakable presence...

   Michael’s head jerked up. “You spoke to _Him?”_

   “Not recently,” Gabriel said wryly, comfortably separated from the shock of the occasion by a buffer of millenia. He sat next to Michael on the low stone wall.

   “He said-” How could He have possibly failed Michael? _“-that?”_

   “Yup.”

   “No,” Michael said vehemently. “It was _my_ mistakes that caused so much trouble.”

   “Michael _I’m_ the one who brought you Dad’s instructions. I know perfectly well that you never would’ve tried so hard to fight Samael if He hadn’t said you were supposed to and then just bailed to wait and see if you figured out that you were supposed to question it.”

   “Our Father did not order me to put Naomi in charge of warping our siblings’ minds,” Michael snapped. “He did not order me to ally with demons and put Zachariah in charge of coercing my vessel-”

   “But would you have done it if you didn’t think there was only one right way to do it?”

   “That is not an excuse!”

   Gabriel cocked his head. “Well, you said it, not me.”

   “What is this?” Michael demanded. “An attempt to unsettle me just so I’ll speak my mind? You only have to _ask.”_

   “I’m not trying to do anything except figure you out, big bro.” Gabriel slipped the playful epithet in like it was nothing. “I want to know what that human soul mixed up with everything else in there-” He flicked Michael in the chest. “-has done for you.”

   Michael pressed a hand over his sternum. The heart of his human body beat underneath, his Grace packed into every inch of blood and bone, suffusing all the places in between. “Human soul?” He repeated.

   Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Did you think it just vanished, when you got your Grace back?”

   Michael had never considered it. The soul he’d been granted as Wayne - of course he must have had one, but as Michael it had never crossed his mind to wonder about it. Archangels didn’t have souls.

   When he’d been flung from his body in the face of the Killing Curse or vacated it after Potter’s _sectumsempra_ , nothing about existing without a physical container had seemed awry or different than usual. There had been nothing that indicated a soul, mixed up in his Grace.

   But he knew, as soon as Gabriel said it, that his brother was right. Wayne had not been erased when Michael was restored. He’d always known that.

   He’d just never considered the _soul._

   “Makes a hell of a difference,” Gabriel said softly, “doesn’t it? Samael may be closer to my ’bots than to human in terms of a soul, but don’t discount the difference it can make. I got pretty close to something human.”

   “What happened to not trying to influence me in regards to Samael?”

   Gabriel shrugged. “Alright, so I’m biased. Sam doesn’t want to fight, you don’t want to fight. It makes sense to _me_ that the best ending is you two being able to get along again.”

   “It’s not going to be that easy.”

   “No, probably not. It’ll probably take time, and there’ll probably be rough spots. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth the effort.”

   Michael stood sharply, linking his hands behind his back to keep them still. “You don’t really believe that Samael and I could...” He shook his head. “What’s in the past is in the past.”

   “And what lies in the future is unknown to the best of us.” Gabriel stood as well. “Besides, I don’t think you disbelieve that it’s possible as much as you say you do.”

   “What makes you think that?”

   “You’ve been calling nem Samael this whole time.”

   Michael winced. Gabriel laughed, and brushed his wings against Michael’s. His feathers prickled with warmth, and another memory whispered through their connection; a secondhand warmth, one Michael remembered from the time before he was born as Wayne. Soft reassurance, comfort, from their Father.

   Michael broke away sharply, from Gabriel’s touch and his memories. “Don’t-” Michael breathed in raggedly, and continued more calmly. “I don’t need that from you. If our Father doesn’t want to speak with me...I must accept that decision.” Even if he didn’t like it. Even if in his lesser moments he wanted nothing more than to demand an explanation. Michael laughed, mostly to himself. “Raphael was right.”

   “About...what?”

   “About you.” She’d called Gabriel the first to be rewarded with his powers back, the first to grasp their Father’s true message. The one who got it right, without getting it so catastrophically wrong first. “You always were rather like Him. I suppose Creation on your own was just the next step. It’s no surprise that He’d come to you.” _And not me,_ Michael did not say.

   “What, because he likes me better?” Gabriel scoffed. “Michael, come on.”

   “Am I wrong? I’ve heard nothing from him.”

   Gabriel hesitated. Michael frowned, and turned around. There was something that Gabriel had been about say, and had not.

   “He sought me out, yeah,” Gabriel said at length. “To talk. To meet who I’d Created. But there’s plenty of times I was shouting into emptiness just as much as you, Michael.”

   Michael scoffed, and turned away.

   “This is not a _punishment_ because you failed, Michael. _He_ failed you, He told me so himself, and He was right! He put you here so you could learn - so you could have what you didn’t have before. You have _friends,_ you have something good-”

   “And bad!” Michael shouted, spinning to face Gabriel. “If He couldn’t speak to me Himself, He could at least have left me the parents He gave me!”

   Shame at the misstep pulsed through Gabriel. He reached out to Michael with sympathy, but Michael closed their connection with a snap.

   “He’s not running the show here, Michael,” Gabriel said softly. “He’s gone.”

   Michael turned away again. He didn’t want to hear Gabriel corroborate what he’d already noticed. “You don’t need to rub it in.”

   “I’m not rubbing anything in. He’s not neglecting you, Michael, he’s gone.” Gabriel struggled for a moment. “He - He’s dead.”

   Michael went cold.

   “He can’t be,” he said, staring sightlessly down at the road.

   “Death said-”

   “Death can’t take _Him.”_

   “He said he did.” Unhappiness colored Gabriel’s presence. Michael’s lungs were tight, he couldn’t _breathe_. “And...Death told Samael to take him. Gave Sam the scythe and everything.”

_“Death_ is gone?” But Michael had just seen the horseman! “Why would he give Samael his scythe?”

   “As an inheritance?”

   “Then what is left of our Father?” Michael demanded, rounding on Gabriel again. “He cannot have left no trace of His presence on this world!”

   Gabriel did not answer. His wings were curled in close around him. He looked almost...guilty.

   Gabriel, who burned with more than just an archangel’s power.

   “Michael,” Gabriel began, seeing realization pass across Michael’s face. Michael flared his wings and was gone before he had to deal with his brother any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw, michael...
> 
> (For those curious, Bowman Wright is a real chocolate frog card, for a given definition of real. He's the inventor of the Golden Snitch)


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh. i apologize in advance?
> 
> there's a *lot* of enochian in the beginning of this, fair warning - the text, when the font comes across correctly, tends to overlap on itself if it runs over one line. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> also, this chapter includes a link in the beginning-ish! it's to a song that's meant to be listened to while you read the following bit, but it works just as well without musical accompaniment

    In the remote corners of the universe, somehow, Michael felt Raphael’s presence approaching.

    He had not blown up another planet, but he had come close. He had flown without care for the various celestial objects tumbling in his wake, and had been caught by surprise by a star going supernova. Michael’s anger had exacerbated the event, and now he sat in a cloud of space dust, wondering if he ought to put it back together or not. He wasn’t sure he could muster the delicacy necessary for the task.

    He did not acknowledge Raphael until she landed, a careful distance away. There was no air to breathe that would let him speak out loud.

    Why didn’t you tell me?

    I would not have kept it secret from you. But I didn’t want to burden you. Raphael bore no trace of His power, like Gabriel had. Grief wound through her voice And...it was still fresh. I couldn’t bear to tell you when I still felt Nir absence like a wound.

    The debris from the star stirred in the wake of Raphael’s wings as she came closer. Michael curled in on himself as one wing settled over him like an embrace, but did not shake her away.

    I can only tell you as much as I know of what happened. If you want.Raphael pressed against their connection, gently, like an invitation. Michael swallowed, and opened his mind to her.

    Flashes of the universe passed between them. Secondhand explanations from Gabriel to Raphael became thirdhand to Michael. He saw Light, and Darkness, and a third that was their match in every way. Thirdhand, fear and uncertainty and awe came to Michael.

    Secondhand was Raphael’s stale fear - of the Dark, for Gabriel’s safety. Secondhand was her quiet delight, nearly drowned in everything else, in being able to fight at Samael’s side again.

    Death was our Parent’s sibling? Michael asked quietly, when Raphael was finished.

    I never knew. Neither did Gabriel. Raphael shuffled into a more comfortable position. I always knew Death must have been one of the oldest, older even than the Leviathan. But... 

    But?

    Raphael sighed. It makes sense, she said, that Death would come into being at the same moment that living things capable of dying did.

    Michael twitched away from her, but Raphael caught his shoulder to keep him close. This is not the end, Michael. 

    How could it not be? How could the universe continue moving on as normal without the one who had set it all in motion?

    Our Parent intended that it continue. Do you imagine there’s nobody left capable of making good decisions? That time cannot pass properly and the very laws of existence will fall out of tune?

    Michael did not, not really. But he felt in his heart, with his Father _gone,_ that the universe ought to reflect that loss. Planets should be falling out of orbit, the light of stars failing. Everything down to an atomic level should be reeling - like he was.

    There weren’t words. Michael would never have said ‘it’s not fair’ aloud, but it _wasn’t._ First Eleanor and Alan, now this? Was he allowed to keep nothing? Even the vague hope that, one day, his Father might reach out to him was snatched from his hands. The hope that Michael might eventually speak to Him again, to learn _why._

    There is a hole in my heart,  Michael gasped out, that is bleeding too freely to heal. Who knew if he was even speaking metaphorically? His body hurt just as deeply as he did. The raw wound of Eleanor and Alan had been packed full of salt.

    You still have us. Raphael gripped his shoulders, but Michael could feel the way that parts of her were still raw from the loss, feeding into his own grief. None of us are going anywhere. All of Creation is our inheritance, Michael.

    And yet all of the literal inheritance was saved for only one. Michael had spent so long being the dutiful son, so long regretting that, and yet to get nothing for his efforts still stung like a poison.

    This is not insurmountable, Raphael said. I will not believe that our Parent gave us an impossible task. We...we will simply have to learn to live with what has happened.

    I don’t  want to.

    Not even for your friends?

    Human reflex made Michael try to draw in a breath. He choked on the emptiness of space. However dearly he had come to hold his human friends, however much he trusted them - they were only human, weren’t they? Only temporary, in the end.

    Must I live with nothing remaining of what I once had? Michael asked, despairing. Raphael’s grip on him tightened, as if she were trying to ground him.

    Come with me.

    Michael let Raphael pull him from the wreckage of the star. His wings spread to catch winds no mortal could have felt or would have noticed. Raphael led him through paths in the universe he’d never seen before, ways with specific twists and turns that took him far from the familiar sights and planetary systems.

    When they reached the other end of Raphael’s path, Michael nearly keeled over.

    The chatter of the Host [exploded into his head.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MI0ijoJgx5k)

    Michael exhaled sharply and leaned against a nearby tree. The Garden was a pale imitation of what Eden had once been, but the familiar and welcome energy of Heaven made him more grateful for it in that moment than a wanderer in the desert stumbling across an oasis. Warmth seeped into his very bones, soothing his raw edges.

    At the edges of his senses Michael could feel a thousand thousand angels, his siblings, talking in shocked undertones of his sudden arrival. None came anywhere near the Garden, but they fluttered around its edges, in constant movement.

    "I’m going to tell them not to worry." Raphael left Michael by himself. A moment later, Michael could hear her gathering attention, a flurry of questions from others nearly drowning out her explanation. Michael paid no attention to Raphael’s words, instead looking for the others who were speaking.

    Benjamin. Jehoel. Daniel, Adina, Hannah. Samandiriel. Castiel, even - and Michael felt a twinge of something like nostalgia. Castiel bore little resemblance to the rogue, near powerless angel Michael remembered him as.

    And yet, besides Castiel and the others...Heaven was emptier than he remembered. Despite its warmth, despite the comfort of the Host in the back of his mind...

    “Different, isn’t it?”

    Michael raised his head slowly. “Not enough that I am not glad to be here again,” he said. “Glad, too, that the Garden is still in good hands.”

    “Our siblings hold this place in enough reverence that no matter how bad the infighting got, the Garden was not disturbed.” Joshua looked mostly the same as when Michael had last seen him.

    “Good.”

    “You’ve changed, too.”

    “To put it simply.”

    “Is this your triumphant return, then?”

    Michael breathed in deeply. The Garden smelled of green and growing things, a heady incense that made the air thick and sweet. “No,” he breathed out, “no, I don’t think so.” He couldn’t leave his friends just yet. “I still have work to do elsewhere.”

    Joshua nodded. As always, he was unreadable. “The others may argue,” he said, “but no angel is barred from this Garden so long as they aren’t barred from Heaven - and none are, anymore. Nobody will disturb you here.”

    “I think Raphael is attempting to ensure that, yes.” Michael had caught bits and pieces of Raphael talking to the others. Raphael had long ago mastered the art of sounding pleasant and heavily implying the consequences for not being obeyed. “...Thank you.”

    Joshua nodded again and ambled off through the trees. Michael slid to the ground, leaning his back against the tree.

    The Garden always seemed realer to him than anything else on Earth. Suffused with Heaven’s energy, the bark of the tree really did press into his back and poke in odd places. The grasses and the undergrowth grew tall and were not easily batted aside or out of his way. Scattered flowers of all sorts popped up here and there between tall stalks of grass, more vibrant than any Michael had ever seen around Hogwarts.

    ...Though the Garden did definitively lack anything like Venomous Tentacula, or some of the more interesting residents of the Herbology greenhouses. Michael wondered what Joshua would think of Professor Sprout.

* * *

     Another angel approached the Garden.

    Michael roused himself from his thoughts. Time felt so distant and lethargic in Heaven - how long had he been sitting there? He felt much calmer than when he’d arrived, though there was still a knot of pain and grief in his chest. It had lessened, but not vanished.

    For a moment, Michael mistook the approaching angel for Raphael. Yet despite the archangelic presence, it was Castiel who walked up to him, stopping a generous distance away.

    Michael hauled himself to his feet, frowning. “Castiel. You look...changed.”

    “I got promoted,” Castiel said. He was as gruff and blunt as ever. Michael discovered he no longer found those humanish qualities so annoying. “And you’re alive.”

    “Thankfully.” Michael scrutinized Castiel. His presence was distinctly that of an archangel’s. No casual seraph, even restored from a state of disgrace, held that much power. “How...?”

    “Gabriel helped.”

    “Ah.” Gabriel was involved everywhere, it seemed. “I didn’t know he’d been here.”

    “From time to time. Raphael refuses to go to him every time they want to see each other.”

    “So he’s not here all the time.” That confirmed what Michael had expected.

    “No, it’s largely Raphael and I.”

    Michael looked Castiel over again, surprised. Of all the lieutenants for Raphael to choose... ”And this has worked for you?”

    “Mostly, yes. Raphael’s word carries weight with those for whom mine doesn’t. After so much time, there aren’t many who still carry a grudge against either of us.” Castiel didn’t fidget, but he did pause significantly. “I’m...not sure what they might think of you.”

    “You don’t have to worry,” Michael said tiredly. “At the moment, I have no plans to stay.”

    “Really?” Castiel seemed more startled than relieved.

    “I only came to...rest. For a time.” Michael squinted at Castiel. “The Winchesters aren’t still around, are they?” One could never guess when it came to those two.

    Castiel flushed. “They’re in Heaven. In the usual fashion.”

    “I’m glad they’ve done something in the usual fashion, at least.”

    “Unusual methods worked against you.”

    Castiel had certainly gained enough power to back up his willfulness. He didn’t so much as blink when Michael leveled a look at him.

    “I suppose,” Michael relented after a moment. A vague curiosity stirred in him regarding Dean Winchester, but it wasn’t strong enough to make him actually ask after his old vessel’s whereabouts.

    “So what will you do now?”

    “Why, are you worried you’ll have to pelt me with holy fire again?”

    Castiel had the grace to look embarrassed, if only briefly. “I apologize, but I believe in the moment it was a necessary maneuver.”

    Michael was not going to have this argument. “It won’t be now.” He looked away, trailing one hand along a low-hanging branch, heavy with blossoms. He didn’t want to leave, but Castiel’s presence was reminding him that Heaven was no longer strictly his domain.

    He wished he could take something of the Garden with him.

    “Raphael seems ready to welcome you back at a moment’s notice,” Castiel said. Michael smiled, small and private. Raphael was still on his side after eons alone, it seemed.

    “We’ll talk about that another time,” Michael said, and stepped out of the Garden. It was time to be getting back to his friends.

* * *

    He misjudged the time. It was late at night when Michael landed back in the Hufflepuff boys’ dormitory. The rustle of his wings was greeted by another rustle from one of the nearby beds, a moment before the curtain around it was whipped open.

   “It is you!” Ernie said triumphantly. Justin, sitting behind him, whacked him with a pillow and hissed,

   “Be quiet, it’s almost midnight!”

   “Were you two waiting for me?” Michael hoped he hadn’t kept them up too late.

   “Only sort of,” Justin said. “You’ve been gone all weekend. Did something go wrong?”

   “No.” It had gone wrong years ago, when Michael first noticed his Father’s absence. “Raphael had...a great deal to tell me.”

   “What about Gabriel? Do we need to kick him out?”

   “I’m sure he’s already gone.” Michael didn’t bother going to his own bed, but flopped down on the end of whichever one of them’s bed this was.

   “Are you okay?” Ernie squinted at him suspiciously.

   “Only tired.” The back of his mind was empty and quiet. Michael sighed. “Coming back here after interfacing with my siblings is...”

   “A relief?” Justin guessed.

   Not remotely. Michael thought for a moment. “Lonely,” he settled on.

   “We’re right here, but alright,” Ernie said.

   “You two are good company,” Michael reassured them. “But humans aren’t the same. My siblings and I are connected intricately by the circumstances of our creation.” He tapped the side of his head. “I don’t get that with humans, and it would be rude to try.” Also probably extremely painful for the human in question.

   “You can read thoughts because angels are telepathic?” Justin demanded in something approximating a whisper. “Holy shit, Michael, how are we _still_ finding these things out about you?”

   “It never came up before.”

   “So you can hear _all_ your siblings, all the time?”

   “If they’re close enough.”

   “But they’re not, here,” Ernie guessed. He patted Michael on the shoulder. Michael allowed it. “It must be a hell of a thing to go back to how chaotic that must be and then come back to our terrible human voices.”

   “Your voices are fine,” Michael said. “It’s not your fault you have to use physical vocal chords.”

   “What do your siblings sound like, then?” Justin was holding the pillow against his chest, hunched over in a way that was going to make him ache come morning.

   Michael pondered how to describe it. “Musical,” he said at length, “but not remotely like human music. Enochian only sounds rough when it’s pronounced by physical mouths.”

   “That would be so cool to listen to.”

   “For your own sake, don’t try. Hearing an angel’s true voice is just as catastrophic for humans as looking on one that doesn’t have a vessel.”

   “Aw.”

   “Is there ever anyone who can hear it, like Luna can see you?” Ernie asked. Michael paused, going back over the various prophets he knew of. Luna wasn’t a prophet, but association with the heavenly spheres tended to produce that kind of ability more so than random chance.

   “Not that I know of,” he said. “But I suppose it’s possible that some might be able to hear it without immediately going deaf.” From having their eardrums blown out, but there was no need to go into detail. “That’s why Gabriel was our Father’s messenger, so...” Thinking of Gabriel and his Father was painful. Michael trailed off.

   “Are you _sure_ we don’t need to kick Gabriel out?” Justin pressed.

   “Gabriel hasn’t done anything except be himself.” However convenient it would be to blame one person, Gabriel hadn’t done anything wrong.

   “I’ve _met_ Ginny’s brothers, you know. I know what siblings can be like.”

   “If you’re going to put it like that, you understand that Gabriel is Ginny in that particular metaphor?”

   Justin frowned, but it was interrupted halfway through by a yawn. “Whatever’s going on,” he said once it passed, “promise you’ll tell us _eventually,_ at least.”

   Michael closed his eyes. Justin had, out of all of them, always been the most invested in the faith aspect of Michael’s angelic existence. Who knew how he would take the news, when Michael himself still ached? “...I promise.”

* * *

   When Ginny learned about Michael’s connection to the Host, she took him solemnly by the shoulders and said, “I am so sorry.”

   “It’s a _good_ thing,” Michael said, exasperated, as Ernie started cracking up behind him. “I much prefer it to silence.”

   “Are you kidding? You’re telling me if Gabriel were in your head 24/7, you’d never get irritated at him?”

   “Whether or not he irritates me is immaterial.”

   “So you would,” Ginny said triumphantly. “Geez. Now I’m imagining Fred and George being able to talk to me at any time, no matter what I was doing or where I was.”

   “That’s terrifying,” Susan said.

   “I don’t know,” Hannah mused. “Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in people’s heads, you know? It would be nice to be able to tell what people were feeling or ask them privately.”

   “It’s not private if it’s your entire family,” Justin pointed out.

   Hannah shrugged. “I’m an only child.”

   “Is Gabriel talking to you right now?” Ginny poked Michael’s temple. “Tell him I say hi.”

   Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “He is not.”

   “Tell him anyway?”

   Michael sighed. If you’re listening, Gabriel, Ginny insists that I tell you she says hello.

   The reply came faster than he anticipated. You have delightful friends. Am I still invited to the school’s next Quidditch game? She said I could come.

   Michael tilted his head. “You invited him to your Quidditch game?”

   “That was fast.” Ginny looked impressed. “I did. He said he’d never seen a game before, which I think is a shame.”

   If you must. It’s only humans on broomsticks. “I’m not surprised Gabriel was excited by something like that.”

   “Just because _you_ never figured out why people liked sports,” Ginny sniffed, as Gabriel shot back,

   On broomsticks, Michael! With magic! 

   You can fly on your own.

   Not like  that. Gabriel’s enthusiasm leaked through in his words. Michael shook his head.

   “I don’t mind if he comes,” he said aloud. “Can we focus, please? Don’t you all have tests to worry about?”

   “I’m no NEWT student,” Ginny said gleefully, “I’m just here to watch you all suffer and tell myself that I don’t have it so bad.” Susan mimed hitting Ginny over the head with a Potions textbook, and the conversation drifted from there. Michael retreated to his usual seat with one of the few library books he hadn’t finished yet, and picked up his quill.

   After what seemed like no time at all, Gabriel’s voice wound back into Michael’s mind. Quick question. Do I get a plus one?

   Who in the world would you bring as a plus one?

   Well, the books were a big hit back home, people are excited to see Quidditch in real life.

   Michael frowned. Books?

   Right, you wouldn’t know. Harry Potter. Big young-adult fantasy series. This is why we pay attention to humans, Michael, sometimes they come up with stuff that turns out to be important.

   Was the author a prophet?

   Hell if I know, she got plenty wrong. Or at least I hope it’s wrong.  Michael got the impression of a shrug combined with a wince. Anyway, yes, no?

   Again, who would you bring? Just one,Michael added quickly. He didn’t need his siblings taking over Hogwarts.

   I dunno, we’d probably have to draw straws to see who got to go. Except we can’t use straws, because-  Gabriel cut off his sentence. You know what? I’ll get back to you.

   Because what, Gabriel?

   ...Samael cheats when we draw straws so ne can win.

   Michael’s grip on his quill tightened dangerously. Absolutely not.

   I wasn’t  actually suggesting that, you’re the one who asked. No straw-drawing is happening.  Gabriel’s voice suddenly brightened. Hey, you could come by, get a feel for who’s potentially being unleashed on Hogwarts!

   Is Samael there?

   Ne can not be.

   Michael toyed with his quill. He’d been staring at the same passage in his book for the last minute or so, not processing any of it.

   I could introduce you to the ‘bots, too, Gabriel said.

   ...Your Creations. The idea was unusual. It was untrodden territory, but then, what wasn’t these days for Michael?

   Yeah! They’ll make fun of you relentlessly, it’ll be hilarious. 

   That’s your first thought about us meeting.

   Well, unless you  intend to be uncool about it.  Gabriel adopted a playfully serious tone. Legally you’re obligated to tell me upfront if you’re going to be uncool. 

   I wouldn’t harm them. They’d done nothing except be Created. Michael supposed he could reserve judgement.

   Good, then you can come!

   Michael realized he had been plucking at the vanes of his quill and absolutely ruining the shape of the feather. He put it down sharply. Only for that, then.

   I’ll tell Sam to clear out. 

   A belated thought occurred to Michael. ...Where  have you been, all this time?

* * *

   Gabriel met him in one of Hogwarts’ rambling covered walkways, suspended over a valley that cut through the ground startlingly close to the castle. Michael had always wondered what possessed the Founders to choose such a spot for a castle.

   “Are you meant to be wearing a Gryffindor scarf?” Michael frowned. The thing was bright red and yellow. It had _tassels_. “That’s terrible.”

   “What am I supposed to do, steal the real deal from some poor student here?” Gabriel grinned and tossed one end over his shoulder theatrically. He still glowed with their Father’s inheritance.

   Michael breathed evenly, and told himself that there was no real cause for hard feelings. “Why Gryffindor?”

   “First one I thought of. Besides, all the ‘Which House Are You?’ personality tests put me in Gryffindor.”

   “The what now?”

   “I’m so glad you asked, I was gonna ask you to take one. Who knows if an internet quiz can really do as well as the Sorting Hat, am I right?”

   It had been under a minute and the conversation had already thoroughly gotten away from Michael. “Weren’t we going to go somewhere?”

   “If you insist, but I’m going to find one of those quizzes for you to take eventually. Follow me.”

   Gabriel was so quick, he was more difficult to follow than Raphael had been, but he was brighter than Raphael in the darkness of space. He led Michael in a different direction, towards the opposite end of the universe.

   Michael tripped off the edge of the path and into a crowded room.

   “Oh, I should’ve cleaned up,” Gabriel said. He did not sound regretful beyond surface disappointment that he’d forgotten about the mess. “Whoops.”

   “What is all this?” Michael looked around at tables covered with bits of metal and paper, the latter filled scrawled diagrams and equations. In the back of the room variations of a full-body suit of armor were laid out or mounted. The ones not mounted were mostly in pieces, wires and fiddly metal bits sticking out of the ends, as if someone had been picking them apart.

   A computer of some kind had been left on, still projecting a slowly-drifting image in monochrome blue like a screensaver. Gabriel waved a hand through it, and it flickered and vanished.

   “My stuff,” Gabriel said. “Gotta find some way to keep busy, aside from making sure no idiot tries to blow up the galaxy.”

   Michael could feel the planet shifting underneath his feet. It felt odd, nothing like Earth’s predictable tilt. “Where is this? It’s not Earth.”

   “Nope! Welcome to Asgard.” Gabriel fiddled with the holographic computer until a new image sprung up, and beckoned Michael over. Michael approached, stepping over a jacket that had been discarded on the floor and what looked like a pet’s half-empty water dish. “Here - Earth is here, roughly, and we’re here.”

   Gabriel had summoned up a map that floated two or three inches above the surface of the computer table. Spheres drifted in orbit around suns, though the one Gabriel pointed to looked remarkably un-sphere-like.

   Michael cocked his head. The map was labeled in a language he wasn’t familiar with, though of course he could read it. Provinces of some kind were delineated in bright yellow - the Nine Realms separated from whatever Xandarian space was, and so on. Gabriel was indeed pointing to a planet called Asgard in the middle of the Nine Realms.

   “Why?”

   “I have friends here,” Gabriel said. A faint ‘meow’ made him frown and look down. “Sonofa - how do you keep getting in here?” Gabriel reached down, and produced a lanky tortoiseshell cat. “The doors are _locked.”_ The cat meowed back at him lovingly.

   “Who’s that?” Michael asked with interest.

   “This little bastard currently breaking lab protocol is Suzie.” The tortoiseshell purred harder as Gabriel put her down on the computer table, ignoring Gabriel’s serious words. “I do not need cat hair everywhere. Suzie, listen to me. You can’t come in here just to sit on whatever’s warm.”

   “Hello, Suzie.” Michael leaned forward, into the haze of blue hologram, and offered a hand for scratches. Suzie rubbed along his palm, tail waving back and forth.

   “I didn’t take you for a cat person.”

   “Nor I you.”

   “Touché.” A tablet on a table nearby buzzed, its screen lighting up. Gabriel snapped, and it went dark again. “Well, if Suzie likes you, that settles everything. But the rule is still no cats in the lab, so-” Gabriel scooped up Suzie.

   “What do you have a lab for?” Michael followed Gabriel up the sweeping, artistic stairs that led up out of the apparent basement Gabriel chose to cloister himself in. The door, glass like the walls that guarded the lab, slid shut at Gabriel’s gesture.

   “Human habit. I was a math nerd and too smart for my own good - why stop just because I remembered Gabriel?” Gabriel tossed Suzie down to the ground. She landed on her feet, and promptly started to twine around his ankles. “Oh, also, be careful where you step. I tweaked one of those chocolate frogs so the enchantment wouldn’t fade, but then it got loose and now who knows where it’s gone. The bots have turned trying to catch it into a whole thing, they’ll be upset if it gets squished.”

   “What do they intend to do when they catch it?”

   “I dunno, eat it?”

   “After it’s been running around this place for _how_ long?” Michael asked, horrified. Gabriel only shrugged.

   “At least there’s very little chance of them getting sick from it.”

   Michael shook his head. Gabriel was a mess. A mess who narrowly avoided tripping over his own cat as the stairs deposited them in a golden hall with colonnaded walls, and equally narrowly avoided crashing into the man standing at the top. The man - distinctly not human - caught him by the shoulder.

   “Oh, hey, Loki,” Gabriel said with a broad grin.

   “I was coming down to you, but it appears I need only have waited for you to emerge.” Loki eyed Michael. “Who is this? I wasn’t informed you’d brought a guest.”

   “It’s fine, I cleared it by Heimdall first.”

   Loki’s gaze sharpened to a steely point. “I _see._ You must be Michael.”

   “I am,” Michael said, wondering at the coldness in Loki’s eyes.

   “Heimdall told you?” Gabriel looked exasperated.

   “I am the King’s brother, am I not? Heimdall cannot refuse to answer, if I ask.”

   “I _guess._ Anyway, yeah, Michael, meet Loki.” Gabriel gestured from one to the other.

   Michael nodded in greeting, eyeing Loki up and down. Loki was dressed extravagantly in an unfamiliar style, poisonously bright green complementing the accents of gold - _real_ gold, not yellow fabric or even cloth-of-gold - on his shoulders and around his wrists. Threads of silver ran through his black hair. “You’re a friend of Gabriel’s?”

   “I’m not surprised you don’t remember,” Loki sniffed, making no effort to be friendly. “We’ve met before.”

   “Loki,” Gabriel sighed. Michael cast his mind back to the last few times he’d seen Gabriel, trying to pinpoint where Loki might have shown up.

   “Ah,” Michael said aloud when he hit upon the answer. “You were one of Gabriel’s companions, last time.” That explained...well, everything.

   “Indeed.”

   “Well, this has been fun-” Gabriel said loudly. Loki held up a hand to forestall him.

   “I _will_ say my piece,” Loki said. “You may have forgiven your brother out of familial obligation or love...” He leaned towards Michael, eyes still hard. Green sparks skittered over his fingers. _“I hold no such feelings._ The fact that Gabriel sees no reason to hold you accountable for what you allowed to happen is an astonishing mercy, but rest assured. I am not like Gabriel.”

   “Are you done?” Gabriel asked sarcastically. Loki grit his teeth. His attention did not leave Michael.

   “If Gabriel is ever harmed in your presence again,” Loki said in a low voice, “I will-”

   “I don’t intend for that to happen,” Michael said. “Believe me.” He’d seen enough of his siblings in pain for a dozen lifetimes. Loki gave him a scornful look, and turned away.

   “We can speak later,” Loki muttered to Gabriel. He clasped Gabriel’s shoulder, the touch lingering for a long moment, and then stalked off.

   “Well, that could have been worse,” Gabriel said, watching him go.

   “Could it have?” Loki had meant every word. Michael hadn’t needed to read his thoughts to know that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what Loki’s threats would have been.

   “Loki knows more than a fair amount of Enochian magic. I wasn’t sure what he might try.”

   Michael gave the receding figure of Loki a sharp look. “Why would you teach him _that?”_

   “I barely taught him anything, he’s had eons to figure out more and plenty of innate magical skill. Besides, he’s my friend, and you’re my brother. I wouldn’t have let anything happen.”

   “Let,” Michael said skeptically.

   “Loki may not like you, but he wouldn’t do anything if I asked him to hold off.”

   “If you say so.”

    Suzie’s tail whapped against Michael’s ankle. He looked down to see her crouched low to the ground, eyes round and intent. A little ways away, a brown frog was hopping across the floor.

    “Oh, so that’s where it is,” Gabriel said, a second before a young man in rocket boots hurtled over the railing in pursuit.

    “Ohheydad!” He said in a breathless rush, spotting Gabriel. The frog leaped away from his voice. “Shit!”

    “No time for talk go go go!” A girl had leaped up behind him, using her own technological shoes to leapfrog over his shoulders and dive for the enchanted chocolate. It darted away in a blur, and she hurriedly ducked into a roll to keep her face from smashing into the floor. The boy leaped over the railing, hit the ornamental bushes on the other side face-first, and dragged himself back to his feet, one arm over the railing like a drowning man with a life raft.

    “Hold on,” he said, “who’s that?” A leaf had gotten stuck in his hair.

    “This is Michael,” Gabriel said, in tones of infinite amusement. It was nearly overflowing into Michael, who kept feeling the urge to smile.

    _“That’s_ Michael? I thought he’d be taller.”

    “It’s getting away!” The girl bellowed, hurling herself into the garden as well. Suzie squeezed between the railing that marked where the hallway ended and the gardens on either side began, and vanished into the bushes.

    “Okay, hold that thought. This is gonna take a second.” The boy turned and, with a burst of power from the shoes, followed the girl down over the lip of the garden where it fell away to lower reaches of the palatial building Gabriel had brought Michael to.

    Michael looked at Gabriel, pointing in the direction the two had gone. “That’s...?”

    “Yup.”

    On second thought, Michael wasn’t surprised. “And you weren’t going to introduce me?”

    “They were moving a little fast for you to be able to tell which was which,” Gabriel laughed. “But you’re not allowed to make fun of their names.”

    “Why, what are their names?”

    “Okay.” Gabriel held up his hands. “Before I say anything keep in mind that when I named them not only did I think they were just robots, I was teenage, drunk, and human. That’s a lethal combination if there ever was one.”

    “What in the _world_ did you name them?” Michael asked incredulously.

    “The two you just met are Dummy and Butterfingers.”

    _“Dummy_ and _Butterfingers?”_

    “I just said no making fun of their names!”

    “If anything I’m making fun of you! You-” Words failed Michael. Gabriel had been gifted their Father’s Creative ability, for _this?_ It was the potoo all over again. “You are _incredible.”_

    “Why, thank you.”

    “That was _not_ a compliment.” Michael shook his head. Dummy?

    “You haven’t even met You yet.”

    Michael took a moment to parse Gabriel’s words, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. He had never been so tempted to invoke somebody’s - or Somebody’s - name in vain in his life. “I am astonished they still speak to you.”

    “Why shouldn’t they?” Gabriel’s glee at Michael’s reaction was audible. “They like their names just fine. I mean it affectionately.”

    “Your cat managed to gain a normal name.”

    “Dummy named both of them, I had nothing to do with it.”

    “‘Both’ of them?”

    Gabriel made a show of looking in the direction Dummy and Butterfingers had gone. “I suppose we’ve got time,” he said, “since they’re busy. How hard can it be to find a cat in a palace?”

* * *

 

    Even for two archangels, it was very difficult to find one cat in a palace full of bigger souls.

    The palace was a sprawling, golden construction, with walls  and ceilings covered in murals of what Michael assumed was Asgard’s history. Warriors with golden spears and arrows, silver swords and shields, featured prominently. In some of the larger and more public halls, where golden-helmeted guards patrolled more frequently, Loki appeared among the other subjects of the murals; though never in the forefront.

   Occasionally Michael would swear he’d spotted Gabriel somewhere as well, even more subtly included than Loki. But Gabriel moved too fast for him to get a good look at any of them. He rifled through rooms and halls, Michael half a step behind him.

   “Alright, I’m officially out of ideas, unless he’s in the lab,” Gabriel said, coming to a stop on a balcony that overlooked the metallic sprawl of a city. “Which he better not be. Cat fur in the armor is the _worst_ to deal with.”

   “What need do you have for armor?” The stuff in Gabriel’s lab hadn’t looked remotely like anything the Asgardians, real or painted, wore.

   “Oh, that’s a long story and not very interesting unless you were there for parts of it.” Gabriel leaned over the railing, folding his hands together. Asgard’s sun was setting, and stars more numerous than those visible on Earth were blinking awake in the darker regions of the sky. “And now I’ve lost track of the ‘bots, too...”

   “They can’t have spent this whole time chasing that thing.”

   “You never know,” Gabriel laughed. He looked at home, framed against the backdrop of Asgard. Michael hadn’t noticed before, but his clothes were Asgardian as well, styled subtly enough that they could pass for expensive but casual on Earth.

   “The armor is another human thing, isn’t it?” Michael guessed. “Something Tony Stark made first.” Sometimes he was very glad for a perfect memory, because he’d only heard Gabriel’s human name once before.

   “Good guess. Yeah, it was.”

   “What for?

   “The fever dream of an inventive mind? I’m not sure if you’re asking out of politeness or because you actually want to know.”

   “I do want to know,” Michael said. “I don’t know anything about you, not really. Not anymore.”

   “I wouldn’t go that far.” Gabriel sat down on the low bench that ran the length of the balcony. “I’m still mostly the same person I was. Tony Stark wasn’t a huge departure from Gabriel. Strikingly similar in many respects, actually - I think basic personality tends to stay the same no matter what, but I haven’t exactly had a lot of chances to be proved right on that point.”

   “In your case, maybe.”

   “A change of conscience isn’t the same thing as a change of personality.”

   Michael gave Gabriel a pointed look as he sat down as well. “It’s certainly close.”

   “I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Gabriel propped his chin in his hand. “What about you? It’s been way longer from my perspective since we last properly talked. What’s up on the Michael front?”

   Michael scoffed, looking down with a faint smile. “I thought you’d read those books you talked about. Shouldn’t you know already?”

   “Don’t recall archangels being a big part of the plot in that series,” Gabriel mused. “The only Michael I can think of is some Ravenclaw side character who gets a mention in like, book five and never again.”

   “I might not be under the name Michael.” Though he wasn’t sure he wanted his exploits written down in yet another book by yet another human who was - at least a little bit - playing it by ear.

   “Oh, yeah, what was your other name again?”

   “Wayne.”

   “Wayne,” Gabriel tried out, and made a face. “Nah, I can’t see it. You don’t look like a Wayne.”

   “You don’t look like a Tony.”

   “It’s short for Anthony, thank you very much,” Gabriel said in mock offense. “Anthony Edward, though I leave off the middle name whenever possible. Didn’t Raphael tell you this already?”

   “She said she wanted to let you.”

   “Oh, of course.” Gabriel gave Michael a keen look. “I’ll answer whatever questions you like about what happened as Tony, but one answer from you first - why do you really wanna know?”

   Honesty was the best policy and all... “I just want to understand.”

   “Understand?”

   “Why He chose you.”

   Gabriel sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “Well...if you find any enlightenment, feel free to share, ‘cause I’m curious too.” He leaned back, stretching his arms out. “Alright. What do you want to know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my favorite thing that's happened in this story is justin constantly being ready to fight gabriel at a moment's notice for michael's honor. i don't know where that came from, justin's just Like That (ง •̀_•́)ง


	5. Tentative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> last night and this morning, i actually got embroiled in a small family crisis of my own. i'm not in trouble/danger, but that's all I'll say because I'm not really comfortable posting about it on the internet or even talking about it irl, since it mostly concerns my own little brother. he's also not in trouble/danger, it's just A Lot Going On.
> 
> but I caught some serious Feelings over it, and then felt worse because I knew my lil bro was probably feeling like crap over it too, and that sorta turned into...this.

   They talked late into Asgard’s night. Gabriel shared the circumstances of Iron Man’s invention, the shock and loss of a friend that had shaken him out of a rich heir’s glib view of the world. He didn’t give specifics of the life he’d led before his death, after fleeing Heaven, besides relating his habits then to Tony Stark’s hedonistic tendencies; Michael did not ask for any.

   Gabriel skated over what Michael gathered had been quite drastic ups and downs in his life - invasions, alien imperialists, Eternal would-be lovers of Death himself (the last made Michael wrinkle his nose. He could live without picturing Death in that kind of situation, ever, thank you).

   “And after all that, you just settled down with your Creations?” Michael asked skeptically.

   “I wouldn’t call what’s going on here ‘settled down’ in any sense of the word. But why shouldn’t I? They’re good kids, and someone’s gotta keep them safe from blowing themselves up.”

    “Tell me you realize what that sounds like.”

    “Hey, life happens!”

    “Life. Not explosions.”

    Gabriel cracked up, throwing his head back. “That’s never stopped them before and I doubt it ever will,” he said when he calmed down enough to speak. “Oh, shit. That was good. Nobody told me you grew a sense of humor.”

    “I’ve always been funny,” Michael said with a straight face. Gabriel dissolved into giggles again. A smile tugged at Michael’s lips; he let it stay.

    “So what’s the consensus?” Gabriel wheezed. “Am I worthy?”

    Michael’s smile faded. “That’s not for me to decide.”

    “Yeah, but I wanna know what you think.”

    Michael looked down at the floor, linking his hands together. “My mind hasn’t changed,” he said. “You - for whatever reason - _get_ Creation better than the rest of us.” Michael certainly didn’t take as much joy in a simple chocolate candy as Gabriel did. “I’m not really surprised that He decided you were the one that deserved...all of this.”

    “‘All of this’. That’s about as succinct as it gets,” Gabriel sighed. “I barely know what to do with myself, except keep on keepin’ on. It’s so _much.”_

    “What is it like?” Curiosity and envy warred in Michael’s chest.

    Gabriel’s head tipped back, and he stared up at the stars. “Everything’s...more,” he said. “It’s almost like the difference between being human and angel. That’s how I found you.”

    “It was?”

    “Suddenly I wasn’t just aware of this world, but every world. Everything in it, everything moving and growing and living.”

    “Is it too much?”

    Gabriel pondered the question. “No,” he said at length, “but I think it might still take a little while before I get used to it.” He was silent for a long time. Michael wondered if he should say something, when Gabriel added softly, “Sometimes I don’t know if I want to use it. It feels like acknowledging He’s really gone every time.”

    Michael’s heart stuttered. Or maybe it only felt like it did, a pulse of pain or grief. “Was it...recent?”

    “It feels like it was yesterday.” Gabriel laughed, but there was no warmth in it like there should have been - it was dry and short. “You’d think the old man could’a left behind a proper message, or even come to see us again before He made an exit, but no. We all get to find out second or fourth hand, after the fact.”

    “He didn’t speak to you?”

    “Not directly. Not really. This just-” Gabriel gestured at himself. “-happened. Okay, maybe it wasn’t _that_ simple,” he admitted upon seeing the look on Michael’s face, “but it wasn’t much more elaborate than that. I didn’t get a coronation or anything.”

    “We’re not kings or princes.” No matter how much humans liked to frame them as such.

    “No. I mean, who has time for that? Loki’s only the king’s brother and he has _so_ much to do on a day-to-day basis. He doesn’t even have an official position and people still expect him to do things.”

    “The horror.”

    They subsided into silence.

    “Do you ever wonder if you’re doing what you’re meant to be doing?” Michael asked. “What He want - would have wanted?” ‘Would have’ twisted the knife.

    “Not really. I trust my own judgement.” Gabriel scratched the back of his head. “Then again, I gave up on the whole ‘meant to be doing’ thing a while ago. I think He always took a more hands-off approach than we gave Him credit for.”

    “Mm.” Michael felt Gabriel reach out to him, not with a hand but with his true presence, and sighed. “Gabriel...” He didn’t need secondhand remnants of the warmth he remembered from their Father.

    “I’m not trying to patronize you, I’m trying to be nice. Put up with me this once, c’mon.” Gabriel tugged Michael closer by the wingtips. “I know I already forgave you, but I’ll forgive you more if you roll with it.”

    Reluctantly, Michael rolled with it. But the comfort Gabriel folded him in was not what he expected. It didn’t feel at all like their Father - it felt like Gabriel, scars and all. It was the bright kind of warmth that came from embracing wholeheartedly what the world offered.

    ...And underneath it, more of what was Gabriel. Michael was surprised to discover a shakiness suffusing him that spoke of a consequence from something more recent than Lucifer. Michael remembered the memories Raphael had shown him, and the fear for Gabriel’s safety that had trickled in with it. How sure she’d been of the all-encompassing, terrifying threat the Dark posed.

    Gabriel straightened in surprise when Michael got up and came over. Michael took Gabriel’s face in both hands, holding him still enough for Michael to give him a keen once-over. He was searching for what Gabriel looked like - felt like - beyond just the gleam of power.

    “Raphael told me only a little of the Dark,” Michael said, “but you didn’t come off well against them, did you?”

    “Oh, for a given definition of well,” Gabriel said lightly. “It turned out alright in the end.” But his connection to Michael, still open, told a different story. The faintest tremble had run through him at the mention of the Dark.

    “You can’t pretend to be fine, then turn around and expect me to be open to emotional talk.”

    “Watch me.” But Gabriel glanced away from him. “...It was a little rough. Mostly because it was nothing I’d ever seen before.”

    How much danger had Gabriel been in? How great had the chance been, that the Dark might have taken him and maybe even more before Michael ever had a chance to meet again, much less reconcile? Michael pressed his forehead to the crown of Gabriel’s head, closing his eyes.

    “I _am_ sorry,” Michael said. He could still see Gabriel, frostbitten and bleeding, clear as day. “Whatever my circumstances, my excuses, I did fail you. I won’t a second time.”

    Gabriel clasped his arm, squeezing gently. “I appreciate hearing you say it.” He made no effort to extricate himself from Michael’s grasp. After a moment, though, Michael withdrew physically and otherwise. He didn’t need to stay for _that_ long, right? He’d never gotten physical contact among family members quite right.

    Gabriel was giving him a curious, if fond, look. “When did you get so touchy-feely?”

    “It seemed appropriate,” Michael muttered, feeling more awkward by the second. Perhaps he’d gone too far.

    “Appropriate, huh? Alright then.” Gabriel got up and stepped forward to wrap Michael in a tight hug. Michael balked, but Gabriel was fast. “”Nope, this is happening. You caused this.”

    “Get off!” Michael complained.

    Gabriel squeezed extra hard, then released him, grinning. “That sounds more like the Michael I remember.”

    The Michael he remembered had done his best not to get overly familiar with the infantry or lower ranks - which really meant anyone but Raphael, who had not sought out comfort or contact any more than Michael had offered it. The fact that she’d given it so often since their reunion was a consequence of the drastic news she had had to offer.

    Michael settled for pointedly straightening his sweater. “I’m still older than you. You could at least pretend like you remember that.”

    “Are you, though?”

    “This isn’t debatable!”

    _“Isn’t_ it?”

    “I’ve changed my mind. You’re no longer invited to Quidditch.”

    “You wouldn’t dare disappoint your friends,” Gabriel said knowingly. “Besides...” He trailed off, attention drifting. Michael knew how to recognize when a sibling was speaking to another sibling privately, but he couldn’t tell who had reached out to Gabriel.

    Gabriel shook his head, and reoriented himself. “Besides,” he repeated, “I already promised the ‘bots one of them could be my plus one.”

    “Who was that?”

    “The bots, you just met them. Two-thirds, anyway.”

    “Don’t play me for a fool, Gabriel, you know what I meant.”

    “Don’t worry about it.” Even when Michael was looking, it was still difficult to tell Gabriel’s false levity from genuine. “People are just wondering when they should expect to come back.”

    “You mean Samael.” Michael’s feathers bristled reflexively.

    “Gadreel’s not here either, but yeah.”

    Michael turned away. Thoughts were circulating in his head, but he couldn’t make sense of all the conflict yet. “Ne was involved in the fight against the Dark.” It wasn’t really a question.

    “Yeah, of course.”

    If Gabriel had been so threatened, what about Samael? Had the Dark, their Father’s sibling, been powerful enough that Samael had been in similar peril? Michael might have been a breath away from never seeing nem again, having only Gabriel and Raphael’s word that ne had gained redemption.

    If they were wrong and Michael saw Lucifer before him again, he didn’t know what he would do.

    Michael swallowed, and reached out until he touched upon the right presence. Why do you want to come back? 

    There was a gasp, and then a beat of silence. Michael fought not to recoil, to not reflexively close himself off from the cold presence. Behind him, Gabriel’s attention perceptibly sharpened as he caught on to what was happening. Then-

    Can I? Samael asked tentatively.

    Lucifer never would’ve asked. Lucifer never would have left in the first place, just because Gabriel asked nem not to make Michael uncomfortable.

    Gabriel’s gaze was already fixed on Michael, when Michael looked to him. “Do you think-?” Michael began. There were so many questions that he could ask! Was it wise? Was it the right time? Samael hadn’t technically answered his question.

    Ne had sounded so hopeful.

    “It’s your decision,” Gabriel said immediately. One of his hands was jammed into his pocket; the other was tapping out a rapid tempo on his thigh.

    Michael breathed in; breathed out. “Don’t go anywhere.”

    “What - you want a mediator?”

    “Just in case.”

    Gabriel nodded, slowly.

    “Alright,” Michael said. “Alright.” Come back.

    Samael did not appear suddenly. Michael had braced himself for a sudden flurry of cold, but none came. Wherever Samael had gone, it was far away, and Michael saw nem coming long before ne got anywhere close. Ne had to be moving purposefully slowly, practically inching past the various planets that lay in between nem and Asgard, pausing from time to time as if to check whether or not Michael had fled.

    Samael’s presence was...different. A sense of power and immensity, almost, clung to nem like it clung to Gabriel; minus, of course, their Father’s touch. But it was still Samael - still cold.

    But no longer freezing, Michael realized. Cold, yes, but the cold of a fall breeze, not cold like being plunged into icy waters. The kind of cold that might be soothing to a fever or after a burst of exertion.

    Michael still shivered, but he had expected to be tempted to flee at the first change of temperature he sensed. Samael was still approaching, not close in any sense of the word, so maybe that was why...

    Gabriel had drawn backwards, into the doorway of the balcony. His presence was nearly invisible, and that was only half because Michael’s attention was focused entirely on Samael’s slow approach.

    Samael took the plunge. A cold breeze stirred the leaves of the trees growing up to the balcony’s level as ne landed. Michael forced his bristling wings to fold back in.

    “Michael,” Samael breathed. No more than a few feet away.

    What was he supposed to _say?_

    Samael stuttered out a disbelieving laugh, and looked away, hand pressed to nir mouth. “Fuck, I was gonna be cool about this,” ne said wetly. Ne dragged nir hands down nir face and stared at Michael, eyes wide as if ne still couldn’t quite believe that he was there. “I was gonna be _eloquent._ I had shit planned out. Fuck, I’m so _sorry.”_

    “...For fumbling your words?” Inwardly Michael cursed himself. His first words to Samael in millennia, and that was what came out?

    Samael laughed again, still a little wild. “For everything,” ne said vehemently. “I ruined so many things for _everybody,_ and then I was too proud to do anything but double down, and then even after destiny got thrown out the window-” Samal sucked in a stuttering breath. “I can’t - I can’t ask forgiveness for what I did to you. None of it. After we got out of the Cage or before-”

    “You didn’t do anything to me in the Cage that I didn’t let happen,” Michael interrupted.

    It was Gabriel who flinched back from the conversation in shock; Samael just stared, caught with nir mouth open.

    “Oh,” ne said weakly. “Holy fuck, Michael.”

    “What was I supposed to do? Argue that you were wrong to resent me for casting you down?” Michael itched to pace, but he didn’t dare do anything but fully face Samael. “The _first_ thing you said, when we met at Stull, was to try and persuade me to stop. That it was just a test and we were both about to fail!”

    “I only said that so you’d let me win!” Samael had no such compunctions about pacing back and forth. “As I am _now_ I would say that and mean it, sure, but back then I was just trying to see what would make you hesitate.”

    “I wish I had.”

    Samael stared at him. “I-” Ne began, wings drooping, “I don’t know if I wish that.”

    “Not walking away put us both in the Cage.”

    “But neither of us would have really stopped. You were too proud, I was too - _angry.”_

    “Are you still?”

    “Sometimes.” Samael’s voice was small. Ne had stopped pacing. “I try not to be. There’s not a lot to get angry about, anymore.”

    Michael wanted to look away, to have somewhere to refocus his attention, but he didn’t dare.

    “Did you really let me do all that in the Cage?”

    “I’m still older than you,” Michael reminded nem. “You’ve never in your life beaten me in a fight.” Though they’d only ever taken such competitions seriously once.

    “But _why?_ What I did was terrible.”

    “You were going to do it whether I let you or not. It took less effort, and I could still heal. I just kept you from doing anything drastic.” Like what Lucifer had done to Gabriel. Michael winced internally as he recalled Gabriel going silent, his voice removed and destroyed.

    Samael winced, too. “Like killing you,” ne said quietly.

    Michael stayed silent, wary.

    “I wish I’d never thought to do it,” Samael said. “I wished to _God_ that it never happened. Gabriel’s big on forgiveness and redemption, but there’s no forgiveness that can be given from a murder victim, ‘cause they’re fucking dead, and it was _you.”_ Nir voice cracked, and ne broke off, looking down.

    There was no lie in Samael’s voice.

    “Why?”

    “Wh - why do I feel bad for _murdering you?”_

    “Why did you do it?”

    Samael opened and closed nir mouth several times without managing any words.

    “Because you were there,” ne said, eventually. “You were there and I was furious and people kept trying not to fight, and I was. I don’t know. When I remembered, after being just Sam the human for years, it felt like someone had dropped the memories back in my head after leaving them in a blender set to ‘high speed’ for as long as I’d forgotten them.”

    “Your excuse is you couldn’t think straight-”

    “It’s not an excuse,” Samael snapped. “I’m not excusing anything. I did the worst shit I could think of just to prove a point, and that was fucked up. I have to live with all of that for the rest of my life. Gabriel can’t even stand to be around me some days and that’s my fault!”

    Breathing heavily, Samael raked one hand through nir hair. Michael watched nem carefully, but after a moment Samael sighed, and sat down hard on the low bench.

    “Maybe I am still angry,” ne said. “I’m angry at myself. I was so...alone. That was my fate. And I just got angrier and angrier until I couldn’t think and I’d convinced myself that it was all fine, that it didn’t matter, I was proving a point. I was in the right, because it was unfair what you did to me. I could do whatever I wanted to you and it would be fine because it would never be as bad as what you did to me.” Samael shook nir head. “But it _was_ bad. I always made things worse. I don’t know how I ended up like this.”

    “Like what?”

    “Here. Now. With people who like me - _love_ me. Who the fuck knows what’s going through Gabriel’s head.” Samael gestured vaguely in the wrong direction, and Michael realized with a start that Gabriel was no longer with them. “To decide that I still deserved a go at being his sibling, after everything I’d done.” Ne buried nir face in nir hands. “No. I was wrong before. I _was_ thinking. I remember every single thing I thought, that I wanted to do to you. To Gabriel. That I _did_ do to you. I just don’t want to have thought it.”

    Michael said nothing.

    “Is it wrong to want that to not have been me? To say the Cage drove me mad and it was somehow a different person?”

    “I don’t think so,” Michael said, very quietly. “Maybe we are different people.”

    Samael scoffed, and hung nir head. “It’s nice of you to say that.”

    “Have you harmed Gabriel since then, because you wanted to?” Samael tensed. “Are you still turning souls into demons?” Michael swallowed. “Am I the same person who would choose our Father over you?”

    Samael looked up sharply. There was a painful intensity in nir eyes.

    “Are you?” Ne said.

    The knife in his heart twisted again. “From what I’ve heard, there’s not much of a choice to make anymore,” Michael said, speaking through the grief with difficulty. It still had a tendency to behave like a living thing, reaching up to choke him at the most unexpected moments. “But that’s where it all started, isn’t it? Me choosing His word.”

    “It started when I decided that my feelings were more important than everything we had,” Samael scoffed.

    “Would it have gone so badly, if I hadn’t abandoned you?”

    Samael shook nir head, slowly. Nir eyes were gleaming with wetness.

    “Listen to us,” ne said. “‘My fault’, ‘no, my fault’. We’re just a couple of terrible fuckups, huh?”

    Michael did not agree aloud.

    “On days when it was bad...when I missed you, I mean. I used to tell myself it didn’t matter that you were still gone. There was too much history, too much bad blood, between us for it to ever be settled like with Gabriel or Raphael.”

    Michael grimaced internally. The Fall had put Lucifer in the Cage; Stull Cemetery had thrown him down there with his brother. Thousands of years, littered with all kinds of agony, lay between them. Maybe Samael was right.

    And yet...here was Samael, not Lucifer, in front of him.

    “It didn’t work, as far as reassurance goes,” Samael said. “In case you were wondering.”

    “Are we still those people?” Michael asked again.

    “You really think everything that we’ve done can just be forgotten?”

    “Do we have to forget? Can’t it just...let be?”

    Michael did not have to be touching Samael’s Grace for nir skepticism to be clear as day. He exhaled slowly, torn. Half of him was screaming of the Cage, of what that cold had done to him. The twinge of old wounds was more noticeable than they had been in years. The other half of him was equally loud, telling him that this was all he’d ever wanted. Samael, repentant, coming home at his call.

    Michael stuck out his hand.

    “I’m Wayne Hopkins,” he said, as Samael stared. “It’s nice to meet you.”

    Samael huffed out a laugh, like ne couldn't believe what ne was hearing. Ne stood, and took Michael’s hand like ne expected to be burned. Nir grip was surprisingly warm.

    “Sam Stark,” ne said. “I hear we have a relative in common.”

    Michael still didn’t know where Gabriel had gone. “One or two, yes.”

    Samael let him pull his hand back. “So what’s Wayne Hopkins, ordinary student, doing next?”

    “I don’t know,” Michael said. “I gather that’s the plan, now.”

    “To not know?” A small smile graced Samael’s lips. “Sounds good to me.”

* * *

 

(here, have a moment of backstage levity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> halfway through writing this I remembered some questions inukagome had answered on the askblog a while ago, and I went looking to confirm what I thought I remembered - and yes, canonically, Michael *let* Lucifer do everything that happened to him in the Cage. If you search 'the cage' on the blog, it's a page or so back. 
> 
> these two...i'm not sure where they're gonna go, and michael's definitely nowhere near *comfortable* around Samael, but there's something.
> 
> I also listened to "(Don't Fear) The Reaper" on repeat as soon as I started writing Samael, so I don't know what that means, but do what you will with this information.
> 
> (fun fact: that image at the bottom is what happens right before inukagome and I basically rp a whole scene at each other and then eventually one of us goes off to write it. this is how stuff like the Sorting Hat fic happens)


	6. Plans For the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D

    When Gabriel slipped back into his room, there was already someone in it.

    “Is he gone?” Loki was making an effort to sound bored. He’d changed into pajamas since Gabriel had last seen him.

    “Nah.” Gabriel flopped face down onto his bed, perpendicular to where Loki had lain invitingly on one side. “I might still need to get back up there and football tackle one of those two to the other end of the universe in case things go wrong.”

    “One of those two?”

    “Michael and Sam are up there talking.”

    “And you thought this was a good idea?” Loki asked incredulously. Gabriel turned over to lie on his side.

    “Michael decided to. I’m not gonna stop him.”

    “Hm,” Loki said, well-versed in making small noises convey the weight of full sentences. In this case, the sentence was, _That was a terrible idea and you are a fool for your worthless brothers’ sake_.

   Gabriel was a good Loki-speak translator.

   Loki reached out to run his hands through Gabriel’s hair, nails scratching against his scalp. Gabriel let him, eyes slipping half closed. “And what do you intend to do with Michael once he finishes?”

   “He’s probably not gonna stay, but I don’t need to ‘do’ anything with him. He’s his own person.”

   “I don’t see why that should mean he gets to go anywhere he likes,” Loki grumbled.

   “Take it up with your brother. We’ll see what he thinks of Michael, if it’ll make you feel better.”

    “Thor is hardly better than you. He’s never even met Michael before.”

    “He’ll have an easier time being impartial, then, won’t he?”

    With another grumble, Loki shuffled around so he could tug Gabriel into his lap. Gabriel let it happen. Loki’s lap was hardly the least comfortable place in the world.

   “Is it just your siblings that has you so tense?” Loki asked after a moment.

   Gabriel let the silence lie for a moment. He was still processing what he’d heard. “You know that thing you’re still holding against Michael?”

   “The fact that he let you endure years of torture without lifting a finger to help?”

   “That’s the one, but we both know what we’re talking about, you don’t have to specify.”

   “...Apologies for reminding you,” Loki conceded. His nails scratched the crown of Gabriel’s head. “What about it?”

   Gabriel blew out a breath. “Well, Michael was down there for ages before I got anywhere near the Cage.”

   “And?”

   “I always figured the same thing happened to him, but he said he _let_ Lucifer do it.”

   Loki’s fingers paused in their movement. “I was not aware that was the kind of thing one _let_ another do,” he said skeptically.

   “I dunno, Michael’s come out on top against him before.” Once, but memorably. “Michael is older, he’s got an edge of power out over the rest of us, however small that advantage is compared to Sam. Lucifer. Both.”

   “Why could he not have bothered to use that advantage to block Lucifer from you, hm?”

   “I don’t know.” Gabriel stared at the wall without really seeing it. “Michael knew I wasn’t nearly as powerful as Lucifer...” Why would Michael have let Gabriel endure something that he _knew_ was worse than what he himself had gone through? Lucifer had had far more freedom of imagination in what he’d dealt out with a younger brother than with an older.

   Gabriel shivered. Old wounds were twinging, and that was never a good sign.

   “All I am hearing is that you should have let me finish what I started saying to him.” Loki stroked one hand loosely over his head and down his neck, nearly touching his wings (or getting close to where he might have, if he could have).

   “It’s practically ancient history by now. I don’t wanna dig up shit I’m over just to throw it at Michael and make him feel bad.” Michael had seemed to feel plenty ashamed of himself without Gabriel’s help. “You do that fine on your own.”

   “Mm. Well, someone must.”

   “I don’t think anyone ‘must’.”

   “If you won’t hold him accountable...” Loki’s hand stroked slowly from the nape of Gabriel’s neck down his spine. Gabriel turned over so he was fully on his back, still sprawled over Loki’s legs.

   “Not tonight.” Not when he still had to pay attention to Michael - that was a mood killer in multiple ways, if the mood was around in the first place to be killed.

   Loki raised his hands in mock surrender. “Very well. But in my defense, you didn’t kick me out.”

   “You’re still good company.” Gabriel reached for Loki’s hand, giving it a brief squeeze. “Hey, wanna come to Quidditch?”

   “That wizard’s game Barton hasn’t shut up about since you first mentioned this Hogwarts?”

   “Hit the nail on the head.”

   “I don’t believe I will,” Loki said dryly. “Teenagers flying around for several hours, throwing things at each other and experiencing mild peril? I can get a similar enough experience here by wandering into your childrens’ workshop.”

   Gabriel snorted. “Okay, fair enough, but nobody’s keeping score down there.”

   “Are you sure?”

   “Obviously not. Hey, what if we put up Quidditch goalposts somewhere around here? We can do Asgardian Quidditch.”

   “Never speak of this to Thor,” Loki said. “He would let you do it without hesitation.”

   “Just for that, I’m gonna bring it up next time I see him.”

* * *

   Michael did not linger to talk with Samael like he had with Gabriel. There was only so long he could wait before tactfully (well, sort of) fleeing for warmer parts - namely, the Hufflepuff common room fire.

    _“Merlin,”_ Ernie yelped, nearly spilling a bottle of ink over Michael’s feet in surprise at his sudden appearance. Michael had checked to make sure the common room wasn’t too crowded, but he’d expected his friends to be a little more used to his sudden appearances and disappearances.

    “How did it go?” Only Susan hid her startle with any degree of success.

    “Well,” Michael said cautiously. Who knew where he and Samael stood, but wherever it was, it was a leagues better place than where they’d left off in each other’s estimation.

    “Just ‘well’?”

    “It could have been far worse.”

    Susan shook her head. “You’re so dramatic about your family,” she said.

    “That’s what having siblings is like, though,” Justin said. “Look at Ginny.”

    Michael ignored their conversation devolving from there. He had no desire to be called upon for explanation. Instead he crouched down next to the fire, letting the warmth wash over him.

Being with Samael had made him go nearly numb, in what counted as extremities for a being like him. Nir cold had not been overpowering or all-enveloping, but ne was still cold.

    And yet he’d borne it. In time...maybe it wouldn’t feel so terrible. 

* * *

 

    The final Quidditch game of the year, as usual, was an enormous to-do that the entire school threw themselves into to avoid thinking about impending finals. Luna arrived at breakfast with a hat made to look like a badger eating a snake. Michael could see Draco at the Slytherin table, looking torn over whether or not to be impressed.

    “So where’s your brother?” Ginny asked, appearing next to Michael in the crowd as the student population streamed down towards the pitch after breakfast.

    “Oh, he could be anywhere in this crowd,” Michael said mildly.

    “Whatever happened to being able to tell where other - your siblings were at a distance?” Draco prodded. Michael did not glance towards where he could sense Gabriel, a vaguely familiar soul in his wake.

    “You know what he looks like,” was what he said. “Spot him yourself.”

    “Easy,” Luna pronounced, and shot a smile at Michael.

    “For you,” Justin grumbled, craning his neck.

    Gabriel had taken a seat near the back of the Hufflepuff stands, with the soul Michael recognized as Dummy in the corner next to him. Dummy looked to be vibrating with excitement. Michael saw no sign of the rocket boots from the last time, which was something.

    “Hufflepuff, huh?” He said as Michael slid into the seat next to him. “Guess I know who I’m meant to be rooting for. I don’t think I mentioned it, but I never would’ve pegged you for a Hufflepuff.”

    “Oh?”

    “Nah. Gryffindor for sure, I would’ve said.”

    “Gryffindor’s overrated,” Ernie said imperiously. Gabriel laughed brightly.

    “Watch your mouth! I have it on good word that I could easily end up in Gryffindor myself.”

    Inwardly, Michael was pleased with himself at having guessed his brother’s House so well. “Unfortunately for you, Gryffindor’s not playing today.”

    “Who is?” Dummy asked eagerly.

    “We’re against Slytherin,” Justin told him.

    “Hell yes. Oh, I’m DJ, by the way.”

    Michael raised his eyebrows at Gabriel. DJ?

    Sometimes you don’t want to explain ‘Dummy’ to everyone you meet.

    Michael could accept that. Why bring him?

    I promised I’d sneak him into Dumbledore’s office later so he could try on the Sorting Hat. Long story, Gabriel added, sensing Michael’s question before Michael had a chance to ask. I promise I won’t get caught.

    “An angel named DJ?” Susan questioned.

    “I’m not an angel,” Dummy said. “Is that an open secret, that you know about that? I wasn’t sure what I wasn’t supposed to talk about.”

    Susan looked around at the crowd in the stands warily, but nobody was paying attention to their conversation. Michael could sense Gabriel gently turning away the attention of anybody who happened to look over and wonder what two strangers were doing among all the Hufflepuff students.

    “Just my friends know,” Michael said.

    “Cool.” Dummy nodded. He was barely paying attention to Michael; he kept craning his neck for a glimpse of the Gryffindor or Slytherin stands. Gabriel leaned in towards Michael.

    He’s a huge fan, but I told him to tone it down. Your friends finding out they’re fictional in another world can wait, I figure.

    You had to lean in like you were whispering for that?

    Gabriel grinned and sat back. “So where are the players? Let’s get this game started.”   

* * *

 

    In the time it took for the first two goals to be scored, Dummy developed a deep friendship with Ginny by interrogating her about every detail of the game she could think of and actually listening when she started rambling about the Hollyhead Harpies. Michael wondered how much he already knew, and how much was genuinely fresh information.

    He was tempted to find the books Gabriel had mentioned and read them for himself. If only out of sheer curiosity - who knew where one Wayne Hopkins might be mentioned in the background?

    By four goals (Hufflepuff was behind by one), Dummy was on his feet every other second, yelling about fouls along with everyone else. Michael sighed, and leaned back. The Cup match always got people so _invested._ If they lost, they could just try again next year.

    Obviously Hufflepuff was going to win, anyway.

    Around the sixth goal (2-4 Slytherin) both Seekers dived simultaneously. Even Gabriel twitched like he wanted to stand as the student body collectively leaped to its feet, everyone but the Slytherins cheering on the Hufflepuff Seeker. Michael aimed general smugness in his direction, and Gabriel whacked him impatiently on the knee with one hand in retaliation.

    “It’s engaging!” He said, and then “YES!” when the Hufflepuff Seeker soared up triumphantly. The scream of triumph from the Hufflepuff stands was near deafening. Justin whooped and nearly punched Ernie in the face when he threw his hands up.

    Well. Humans would be humans.

    “You said I could go to Hogsmeade,” Dummy shouted over the noise of the crowd to Gabriel as the stadium emptied. In the distance, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team was being mobbed by their friends and admirers.

    “Oh, shit, right,” Gabriel said, patting his pockets. “Michael, you don’t have any Galleons on you, do you? I had some money last time I was here, but then there was Honeydukes...”

    “No,” Michael lied. He didn’t need Gabriel spending his money.

    “Are you sure?”

    Michael sighed, and dug out the three Galleons that had been sitting at the bottom of his pocket for the last three months. Gabriel passed them off to Dummy, and the wayward Creation was off in the blink of an eye.

    “Does he even know where he’s going?” Hannah asked, watching Dummy vanish in the vague direction of Hogsmeade.

    “He’ll be fine, I can track him down no matter how lost he gets.” Gabriel waved a hand.

    “Is he,” Justin began, “I mean, he looks an awful lot like you, but he said he’s not an angel...?”

    Gabriel glanced sidelong at Michael, for once in his life choosing silence.

    “He’s Gabriel’s Creation,” Michael said. “Beyond that I have no idea _what_ he is.”

    “Mostly he’s a little nerd,” Gabriel said, cracking a smile once it was apparent that Michael was going to - how had Gabriel put it? - be cool about it.

    “So he’s - what?” The question was not confusion on Ginny’s part. Both Michael and Gabriel had looked up sharply towards the school, midsentence.

    “Would you excuse me for a moment,” Michael said, struggling to make the words come out calmly. Samael’s presence in Hogwarts had set off protective instincts he didn’t know he possessed.

    “Do you want-”

    “Stay here,” Michael said firmly. He was already moving, without care for whether Gabriel was following or not.

    Samael had better have a good explanation.

    Infuriatingly, Gabriel - on his quick Messenger’s wings - beat Michael there. Samael was slumped against the arch of the doorway into the Entrance Hall, faux-casual, and the intense discussion evidently taking place between nem and him snapped off as Michael approached, wings bristling.

    For some reason, Samael had brought Loki.

    “I only came because he needed a ride,” Samael said quickly, pointing at Loki, who did not look pleased to be thrown under the bus. “But if Gabriel’s willing to take him back-”

    “Of course I would, what, am I just gonna leave Loki stranded here?” Gabriel protested. Samael steamrollered right over him.

    “-then I can get going.” Ne hesitated for a millisecond, and threw a brief wave along with an apologetic look at Michael before vanishing.

    Michael looked down, trying to calm the panic that had set in at Samael appearing without warning - in _his_ territory - before looking to Loki. “Why are you here?”

    “Perhaps I wish to return the favor of barging into your home unannounced,” Loki said smoothly. Gabriel rolled his eyes. “It’s only fair. But no. I came to extend an invitation to you, on behalf of my brother.”

    “The King?” Michael clarified, skeptical. Loki nodded. His eyes were half lidded; he was not imitating blitheness, like Samael, but pure carelessness, as if playing messenger on behalf of his brother was merely an annoying favor he didn’t have much interest in.

    “You surely will be gracing Asgard’s halls more often, with Gabriel and so many others of your kind there,” Loki said. “The King wishes to get the measure of you before such a circumstance becomes too common. He’ll be holding a banquet tonight. If you do not show up, feel free to continue not doing so.”

    “Loki-” Gabriel got out.

    “That is all,” Loki said primly. He stepped out into the yard and strode past Michael. Gabriel caught up with him in a few quick footsteps and pulled him in by the shoulder for a murmured conversation. Michael did not bother to eavesdrop.

    The King wanted to meet him. Michael hoped Loki’s brother was as similar to Loki as Michael’s siblings were to him.

* * *

 

    “You’re going to _another universe,”_ Susan repeated, as if that would make the premise make more sense, “to attend a dinner party on an _alien planet_ because a _king_ wants to meet you.”

    “Are the X-Files real?” Justin demanded.

    “What are the X-Files?” Michael asked, distracted.

    “It’s an American television show.”

    “I doubt it, then.”

    “What does the king want with you?” Ernie was frowning. “You’re an angel, and he knows your brother. That should be worth trust enough.”

    “The king’s brother, Loki, doesn’t like me.” For good reason. “I suppose he wants to get his own chance to form an opinion.”

    “You have to bring something back for us,” Justin said. “Imagine how cool that would be!”

    “What, one toy for each of us?” Hannah was smiling, amused. “Is Michael a spring Santa Claus now?”

    “I’ll see what I can do,” Michael said, privately just as entertained.

    “Can we please talk about another universe?” Susan still was stuck on that fact.

    “There are plenty of other worlds,” Michael said. “Why would my Father stop at just one? Though it’s true that many of them turned out quite differently than others.”

    “Maybe we can get that Creevey kid to lend you his camera,” Justin mused.

    “It may be impolite to take pictures.” Though Michael didn’t much care of Loki’s opinion. “I’ll do my best to remember everything that happens and tell you when I get back.”

    “When are you leaving?” Susan asked.

    “Apparently, tonight.”

    “Do you want backup?”

    Michael blinked at the question. “Backup? You mean you want to come?”

    “Why shouldn’t we?” Susan said defensively. “If it’s only for a night...”

    “I’d go,” Justin said. “When else am I going to get an opportunity like that?”

    “I might as well,” Ernie sighed. “None of you know what manners are, hardly, and it’s a _king’s_ court.”

    “Hey, I resent that.”

    Michael turned to Hannah, the only one of his oldest four friends that hadn’t spoken yet. “What do you think, then?”

    “I’m a little nervous,” Hannah admitted. “And if just us go with you, Ginny and the rest will be jealous...but it does sound fun. I doubt Hogwarts’ feasts are anything like it. I don’t know if it’s fair to ask you to take _all_ of us.”

    If they included Ginny and Neville, Luna and Draco? Michael frowned contemplatively. Angels could bring humans with them in flight, but even four might be pushing it.

    “The four of you...” He remembered the path to Asgard well enough. “That would be manageable.”

    “What, really?” Susan tried to hide her delight. “You would?”

    “If you like.” Michael smiled. “I wouldn’t mind having company.”

* * *

     They met in the Room of Requirement. All four had begged some extra time from Michael to make themselves presentable for a king’s court, which mostly meant finding old dress robes to flatten the wrinkles out of or borrow from a roommate. Their nervousness had rubbed off on Michael a little. He’d decided that a school uniform might make him look a little childish, and so forewent even the tie, leaving him in a plain button-up and the pants that went under the uniform.

    Michael was absolutely sure that Gabriel must have shown up in front of this king in less formal stuff, anyway.

    “So how does this work?” Justin asked nervously once they were all assembled. “Do we hold hands?”

    “You can if you want.”

    Hannah immediately reached for Susan’s hand. Susan let her. Ernie looked at them, shrugged, and linked his hands with both Susan’s and Justin’s.

    Gabriel had told Michael to arrive somewhere other than his messy workshop. Michael assumed it was a formality. Nonetheless, he fixed the image Gabriel had given him of the right place in his mind, and reached out for his friends.   

* * *

 

    All four stumbled as they hit the golden floor of the Bifrost chamber.

    “Oh, that was bad,” Justin wheezed. Hannah caught Ernie around the waist to keep him upright. “Is it always like that?”

    “I have no idea,” Michael said, having never taken humans with him in flight before. Justin’s next words faded as he straightened, and looked at the sight that waited.

    “Welcome,” said the solemn man with the sword. He stood at the center of the golden chamber, yellow eyes taking in the group with slow care. Susan’s mouth was open as she scanned the intricate patterns that were laid along the chamber’s walls. The dome opened up on the far side, revealing a glimpse of a glimmering bridge and the gold smear of the city in the distance. A gap in the ceiling revealed a deep blue sky above, cutting the dome cleanly in half from the doorway to the gate of what Gabriel had promised was a technological wonder of a bridge.

    Michael nodded to the swordsman. “You’re Heimdall?” Gabriel had told him about the watcher.

    “I am.”

    “Merlin’s beard,” Ernie had breathed. He had turned around, and seen the open front of the Bifrost. Distant universes drifted in clouds of red and blue, while stars glimmered in greater numbers than they ever did on Earth - even in the clear skies above Hogwarts. “What is this place?”

    “This is the Bifrost,” Heimdall said. “The gateway from Asgard to the other worlds of the Nine Realms, and planets even beyond that. I believe,” he added as a distant hum resolved itself into more noticeable noise, “that you will be traveling into the city along it, not away.”

    “What kind of magic _is_ there here?” Susan asked Michael as they moved towards the door. Michael shrugged.

    “Magic, technology - I don’t believe they segregate the two.” Michael shrugged.

    “They don’t work together, though!”

    “Maybe at Hogwarts.”

    Outside, a ship-like metal construction had settled to a halt on the bridge. A dark-haired woman, with hints of grey at her temples, was waiting at the rudder, positioned between two great wing-like attachments. Her armor gleamed as brightly as the gilt ship did.

    “Look!” Justin had discovered, with delight, that the bridge glowed brighter wherever a foot was placed on it. The whole thing was shot through with constantly moving and pulsing streaks of red, blue, green, and indeed every color of the rainbow. The woman watched them with amusement as they came closer, all but Michael watching their own footprints.

    “You are Michael, then?” She said. “I am Lady Sif. I wasn’t told before that you were going to bring guests.”

    “After knowing Gabriel, are you surprised?”

    “A bit. I was told you were nothing like him.” Lady Sif indicated the low side of the ship. “If you’ll come aboard, we can get moving.”

    The sides near the middle were low, but in the prow and near the back there were surprisingly comfortable and secure seats. Michael clambered in, wondering at the formality of sending transportation for him if they thought it was only him coming, and extended a hand to help his friends aboard.

    “Whoa!” Hannah shouted as she turned to give Susan a hand. She’d spotted the edge of Asgard’s sea. The water merely cascaded off an edge, dispersing into mist. The Bifrost was precariously balanced on the last little spit of land. “How is all this water still here?”

    “The mist disperses back into the atmosphere and is rained down into the sea,” Lady Sif said dryly. It was obviously not the first time somebody had commented on Asgard’s odd ecosystem. “Are you secure?”

    “Yes,” Susan said, staring at Lady Sif in obvious admiration. Lady Sif turned the grip of the rudder like she was revving a motorcycle, and the skiff hummed with energy, rising off the rainbow bridge.

    “We shall take the scenic route,” Lady Sif decided, and turned the rudder. The skiff rose higher, and the wings at the back rose into an upright position, making Ernie jerk back from where he’d been leaning over the side to keep the Bifrost in view. The skiff began slowly, skimming across the length of the Bifrost and bringing the golden city into clearer view.

    The towers that held the bridge in place flashed by them. Lady Sif brought them further up from the bridge once they passed through the huge gates that guarded the city proper, rising above bridges and past golden spires. She was aiming for what Michael had never before seen from the outside; the palace in the center of the city, rising high above everything else like an enormous golden pipe organ.

    The skiff settled into a landing pad nestled in a courtyard, its wings folding back down. Gabriel was lounging in the doorway, watching with a smile as the four humans disembarked behind Michael.

    “You brought friends! Nice to see you all again,” he said. “And you’re even on time.”

    “Astonishing, considering all I was told was ‘tonight’,” Michael said dryly. Gabriel’s grin widened.

    “It worked out, didn’t it?” He straightened. “Come on. Thor’s waiting this way. I should warn you - Asgard is a warrior culture. Feasts can get a little chaotic.”

    “In _your_ estimation, or theirs?” Michael asked warily.

    “Little bit of column A, little bit of B? It depends on the mood I’m in. No turning back now, big bro.”

    “It will be fine,” Lady Sif said briskly, striding past Gabriel into the hall. “The king never fails to be anything but endeared to humans. Just duck when people yell for you to.”

    “Duck?” Ernie repeated incredulously.

    “Duck.” Lady Sif nodded, and vanished around a corner.

    “What have you gotten us into?” Susan murmured.

    “You asked to come,” Michael reminded her. “At least you know you won’t be kicked out no matter how terribly you behave.”

    “Well, don’t push it,” Gabriel said. “This way. The king awaits.” 

* * *

 

    King Thor was a tall, solid man; his hair had gone completely grey, and a scar had disfigured one eye and paled it to a similar state. His grip was almost crushing, even by Michael’s standards, and Michael swore he felt electricity crackle between the king’s fingers.

    “So you’re the older brother I’ve heard so much about!” He boomed. “I suspect we may find we have much in common, if I have read accurately between the lines of what has been told to me.” Michael barely had a chance to get a word in. They were ushered into an enormous hall, packed to the brim full of Asgardians decked out in gold and silver and shining fabrics. Michael found himself placed at a high table where the King and queen sat opposite each other, guests of note or prestige spreading out to either side of them. Astonishingly, though Michael was seated next to Thor, on his other side was none other than Raphael.

    “When did you get here?” Michael could not have stopped the warmth that spread through him at the sight of her for any price.

    “I’m here as moral support,” Raphael said wryly, her wing bumping companionably up against his. “An Asgardian banquet is no joke. I’ve seen these people hear Gabriel speak with his true voice and only flinch.”

    “Really?” So there was something to Asgardians other than their souls after all. This would be interesting.

    On the other side of Thor, Loki was entertaining Gabriel and Samael, or maybe it was the other way around. Opposite, the human Queen Jane was offering advice to Michael’s friends, reassuring them of the safety of various foods with a companionable joy at being around so many humans after so long with mostly Asgardian company - or so Michael heard her mention. Most of his attention was very determinedly kept by Thor.

    Around courses of mostly meat and flagons of Asgardian alcohol, Thor wrangled stories of Hogwarts out of Michael (which he was willing to give) and stories of Heaven (which he was less forthcoming with, something Thor failed or chose not to recognize). Michael wasn’t sure if Samael’s presence helped or hindered the latter.

    “It must be pleasing, then, to have all four of you in the same place after so long,” Thor said jovially, when Michael had parted with the last sparse tidbit of a good memory from before the Fall he was willing to share. “I have heard a little bit of your family’s troubles from Gabriel. It is much better for siblings to be reconciled with each other.”

    Michael blinked. Thor was right - it was the first time all four archangels had been in such close quarters in a very long time - but he hadn’t thought of it in those terms. “What do you know of such things?” He asked, not meaning to be rude but also not quite caring after all the prying Thor had done.

    “My brother, Loki, had a close call once, long ago.” Thor gestured widely with his tankard. “In our youth, he was not told of a great many things concerning himself by our father. When he discovered the truths, he was wild and confused, and at the same time circumstances placed him in the position of regent. He and I came to blows, and he fell from the Bifrost. I thought I had lost him altogether, not realizing that he had not died but only fallen.

    “Fallen, that was, into the hands of a powerful maniac. By chance when I rediscovered him, it was only after your brother had had a chance to speak with him first.”

    “Gabriel,” Michael said, though there was no real need to guess. Only one brother could fit the bill. Thor nodded.

    “Loki was under the influence of powerful magics,” he said, “and I fear what might have happened between us. I could have never realized the true nature of his sudden change, and only seen it as the result of his turmoil. Some days I think the world might have been a much darker place but for Gabriel’s intervention.”

    Michael’s eyes flickered to where Gabriel and Samael sat, laughing over something one of them had said. “In many ways, yes.”

    “We may find that we only appreciate what we have when it is nearly lost, and then restored to us beyond all hope.”

    Michael gave Thor a sharp look, but the King’s gaze was even. There was no way he didn’t understand the significance of his words, but Michael didn’t seem to phase him in the least.

    “As I have already learned,” Michael said at length. ‘Beyond hope’ was an understatement, when it came to Samael. “And yet...if the circumstances that led to a parting were more complicated than just coming to blows...”

    “No problem is insurmountable - a fact I have learned many times over since taking the throne. And Asgard is very willing to provide problems,” Thor added wryly. “But when those involved are ready and willing to find a solution, it may go easier than you expect.”

    “You and your brother are reconciled, then, but he doesn’t like me one bit.”

    Thor shrugged. “He is more involved in Gabriel’s problems. I had a fresh kingship on my hands when Samael first came to live on Midgard here. It was a long while before I properly met nem and longer still before I learned of the circumstances concerning nir arrival. Loki holds a grudge against you for Gabriel’s sake - Gabriel and Samael hold you in quite high esteem, aside from past actions I am told you regret as much as they do.”

    “...I regret enough to know that they hold me higher than they should.”

    Thor laughed. “I cannot say I have ever had the same problem,” he said. “Loki is always ready with some fresh criticism - the only thing keeping him from taking the throne himself is the order of our birth, and his distaste for being in the public eye so often.”

    “If my younger brother had been in charge from the beginning, things might have gone much better.”

    “Why not let him be, then?” Thor said. “He more or less is here, though you and your sister are not present enough to really be involved. Samael certainly acts as though he has the final say.”

    Michael froze.

    That wasn’t how it worked, he wanted to say, but wouldn’t Thor know better than him at this point, after so long in Gabriel's company? And if Samael had spent years of a human life being raised by Gabriel of course that would affect how ne viewed him. Raphael was in charge of Heaven, but that was a world away. As for Michael himself...

    Could he really just hand over all the stress of being responsible for everyone else, to Gabriel? 

    “You make an interesting point,” Michael managed, to camouflage how the more he thought about it the more attractive the idea sounded. Thor smiled, and pounded him on the back in what was probably meant to be a friendly way, and turned to talk to the Queen.

    Michael was quiet, and spoke to no one, for a great deal of the feast. 

* * *

 

    When the feast-goers began to get drunk enough that people stood up from their chairs and ambled about the room, and even the occupants of the high table began to shuffle around, Michael stood up and found a private space to sit and think.

    The hall the feast was being held in was relatively open-air, discounting the fact that it had a solid ceiling. The walls were open arches with gauzy curtains, and beyond them were places where one could retreat from the noise and heat of the hall and overlook the city. A waterfall fell away next to the one closest to the high table, sending up occasional drifts of spray.

    “So, how’d it go?” Of course, Gabriel found him immediately. “Thor seemed to like you fine, but then again he almost always acts like that, especially when the ale is flowing.”

    “He seems like a good man,” Michael said.

    “I’m glad you approve.” Gabriel sounded like he meant it, too. “He’s a good King, too, which is a feat in of itself.”

    “He has good help.” Raphael slipped through the doorway as well. “Loki is a right hand many rulers might kill to have - though winning his loyalty would be a challenge.”

    “He likes who he likes, that’s not a bad trait to have.”

    “Of course you would say that.”

    “I believe I’ll refrain from commenting on Loki, for now,” Michael murmured. Raphael coughed, hiding a smile behind her hand.

    “Who are we making fun of now?” The billow of the curtain obscured Samael from physical view until ne was right behind Gabriel.

    “Nobody yet.” Gabriel leaned against the railing. “While we’re here, though, you wanna bring Michael up to speed on our plan?”

    “What plan?” Michael asked sharply.

    “The one we made to deal with the Darkness,” Samael said. “I did them in pretty thoroughly - Death’s scythe and all - but I didn’t get _all_ of them. Little bits and pieces slipped off, into a thousand other worlds. I think there might be one in yours, actually, but I haven’t had a chance to check yet.”

    “What, at Hogwarts? When were you going to tell me?”

    “Settle down, we’re telling you now, aren’t we?” Gabriel said. “Anywhere in that world. Could be Hogwarts, could be not.”

    “It’s only a fragment of what the Dark was.” Raphael crossed her arms over her chest. “I doubt it can do grievous harm. But who knows? That’s why we waited until we’d brought you up to speed.”

    “The general plan is find the scraps and get rid of them as quick as possible,” Samael followed up, “but with only three of us, there’s only so much ground we can cover.”

    “Four isn’t much higher than three.”

    “Yeah, but four sealed the Leviathan,” Gabriel said. “Three of us alone never did anything on that scale.”

    “I would hardly call three of us ‘alone’,” Raphael pointed out, amused.

    “My point _is_  - let’s get the band back together!” Gabriel held out his arms invitingly, waggling his eyebrows.

    “Don’t do that.” Michael leaned back.

    “Come on! The old team, back again! Fighting evil! Kickin’ ass and taking names!”

    “I think he gets the point, you retro loser,” Samael laughed. There was a wariness in nir eyes as ne glanced at Michael. Ne was still cold as winter. “You can always say no. Three can still get enough done.”

    “Oh, how could I refuse another chance to fight?” Michael sighed, not meaning it at all. He could feel the old weariness tugging him down.

    “Who said anything about fighting?” Gabriel said. “Fighting is Sam’s job. Ne’s gotta work off that youthful energy somehow.”

    “Who are you calling youthful?”

    Raphael rolled her eyes and pushed Samael back by the shoulder. “We still need to find where these scraps are,” she said. “I was going to do most of the looking, when I could find the time. A partner would make it go quicker.”

    The chance to work at Raphael’s side again, combating the thing that had nearly killed half of them before Michael had been given this chance...

    “When do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all i got, guys. that's all that's happening. the dark is something i have no doubt inukagome will tackle on her own, and i'm way too excited to see how that's gonna go down to formulate a real ass plot for this little spinoff. it's enough to leave a hint that in the near future they're all gonna be working together again for the first time in thousands of years.
> 
> i always did like a happy ending


End file.
